In My Head
by Wesz
Summary: Sam's mind has turned into his worst enemy. His best friend, Puck, is there to help him, but things might start to confuse him. Will he able to step out of his own comfort zone to help Sam? And will Sam push through his anxiety to sooth Puck?
1. Chapter 1  Sam

**WARNING: This story contains homosexuality and another dark, unsettling subject.**

**Welcome to my story, In My Head, which will hopefully suck you into a new world of Spuck.**

**Chapter one is just an introduction. Depending on how many reviews and feedback it'll get, I'll write the next chapter. That might make you want to puke, but I'm only writing to improve my English, so I would really like to know that my time and determination is being appreciated and getting better.**

**Anyway, just enjoy! ;p**

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><p><em>Chapter one - <em>Sam

Sam Evans was a complicated boy; though, that's what he thought of himself. He always felt different from everyone around him, and on one hand that would make him unique, but on the other completely normal. He found himself a social kind of guy, but then again, he could easily lock himself in his room for a couple of days, not talking to anyone. His mind was his safest place, but lately he had experienced that it could also turn into his worst enemy. He could be perfectly fine and happy about something, but not even a second later, feel like shit about the exact same thing. It was because of that development in his behavior a year ago, that he started doubting himself. The self-soothing feeling of knowing yourself made place for anxiety and several insecurities. He started questioning his emotions and tried to think of reasons for his sudden mood swings.

After a couple of days of staying home from school, pretending he was sick, and doing some intense self-reflection, it hit him.

Sam Evans always thought about himself as unique, as different. His mind had always been his safest place, but that had changed. He wondered for how long his subconscious had tried to tell him. Maybe for a month? A year? Two? Or maybe he had known all along, but had just denied it. Coming to think of it, he always did get a light feeling in his stomach when he had to hold the hand of one of his friends in kindergarten, lining up to walk to the playground. He also caught himself staring a couple of times at the athletic bodies of his teammates from the football team, so he guessed he just had always ignored the fact that Sam Evans felt more towards boys than towards girls.

Sam Evans was gay.

Realizing that fell hard on him, because he didn't feel like he had someone to talk to about it. Of course he had some friends at school, but they weren't very close to him. The connection he had with his parents was good, but he wasn't even sure of his new identity. That was the main reason why Sam had started to bottle things up, convincing himself that he was handling his revelation pretty well.

The school year passed and just before had summer began, his dad had announced to have found a new job. Therefore, they had to move to a small place called Lima, Ohio.

The first weeks at McKinley High had been going well. Sam tried out for the football team and found himself being QB, just like he was at his old school. It made him feel a little relieved, because he had noticed that popularity was a big deal at his new school.

Finn had convinced him to also try out for Glee Club. Sam was in love with music, he listened to it all the time and started playing the guitar at the age of seven, so he did. At his audition he introduced himself as airy as he could, making a joke revolving around that book from Dr. Seuss. Though, he couldn't help but feel a rush of anxiety flushing over him when Puck had asked him how many tennis balls he could fit into his gigantic mouth, but he managed to come up with a comeback that apparently was enough to earn Puck's respect.

Because weeks later, he and the boy with the mohawk had quickly grow fonder of each other. It was probably because Puck's friendship with Finn had died down – Finn had spent most of his spare time with his girlfriend Rachel – that Puck was almost desperately in need of a new bro. Turned out that Sam was "worthy enough", as Puck had put it, to cover up Finn's spot, and a new friendship was born. A friendship that Sam had never experienced before. Puck really had his back and he truly liked spending time with him. Not in the gay-way, of course, just as good friends.

But despite of all the new positive developments, there was one thing that hadn't changed; Sam's mind. He now was almost every night up alone in his bedroom, that being true without the times that Puck would take him to the gym or some crazy party.

Because, although Sam now had a few friends and even one good one, he still didn't trust any of them with his secret. Don't get him wrong, he trusted Puck, just not _that_ much. He had read stories about young gay guys getting bullied and had heard several, very confronting, messages on the news. And, fact is, Sam wasn't at all ready to handle all that kind of stuff. Hell, he was still getting used to the idea himself.

So, he started surfing the web, searching for answers, actual _good_ stories, just things he could relate to, because the feeling of being different started to get to him. He was starting to feel more alone every day. Sure, he got to know Kurt, who also was gay, but he just didn't feel like sharing his thoughts with him. Kurt was into fashion and musicals, that sort of stuff, and Sam found none of those things interesting.

So here he was again, sitting at his desk, scrolling down pages on his laptop. He gave a quick gaze at the clock in the corner of his screen and sighed at how late it already was. He noticed the darkness in his room and he felt it clunking around him, infiltrating his mind.

"Here we go again," he softly sighed to himself.

Why was this happening to him every time when he was alone? Why did he had to feel this way? Why did he had to be _gay_? A shiver crept up his spine at the word, still getting scared and uncomfortable by it. Why _him_? He was doing fine more than a year ago, why did it had to drift up the surface like this? Couldn't he just had denied it for a little while longer?

Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on his screen again. Hey, a chat, he noticed. It would probably be another one with those filthy men, trying to get a creepy date, but Sam decided to give it a go. He logged in with a name he wouldn't be recognized with, because, what if someone in Lima found out it was him, on a gay chat? His life would be over.

A little, white icon popped up at the corner of his screen, seconds after he got on. Someone had sent him a private message. His insecurities and anxiety set in again and slightly trembling he clicked on it.

_What are you looking for?_ It said.

Sam sighed, a little irritated by the question. Great, another "do you wanna meet up? I have bucks"-conversation.

_Something to ease my mind._ Sam replied, feeling a little proud of himself for the vague answer.

_What for?_ His chat partner asked.

Sam gazed at his keyboard, his stomach dropping. It felt weird that someone actually showed interest in his feelings. He bit his bottom lip, trying to calm the voices in his head, who were telling him different things. After a few minutes his feelings went numb, like someone else took over his body, and his fingers started hovering over the keyboard.

_Too many thoughts, I can't think clearly and it's really getting to me. Have been feeling this way for a long time now. I can't focus when I'm alone, but I keep having this need to be by myself. It's… Messing with my head… _

He blinked a couple of times, surprised when he read his own message. That was exactly how he felt, but it still felt like those words weren't his.

_I've got the same thing, took me three years to find something that could help me._ The reply read.

Wow, three years…

_What was it?_ Sam asked, getting a little curious. Anything to get rid of that awful voice in his head.

_Cut it out._ Sam's brows disappeared under his bangs when he read that. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he just had to "cut it out"? Like his mom used to say when he was whining about something when he was little?

Cut. It. Out. The voice inside of Sam's head kept repeating. He was just about to ask what his chat partner meant, when he saw the notification about him, or her, being offline.

Sam let out a deep breath and closed his laptop, letting his head fall back, his hands rubbing over his face. Why was the answer to his sad feelings so hard to find?

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Puck pulled Sam out of his thoughts, "you've been acting absentmindedly for, like, almost a week now?"

They were at Puck's place, trying to make some homework. Puck had asked a question, but Sam hadn't answered, bluntly staring at his science book.

"Nothing, man, just tired, that's all," he answered indifferently.

"Well, okay," Puck responded, "but don't screw up at our game next Friday. We need you, bro."

Sam nodded at him reassuringly, a trace of a smile creeping onto his face.

"Gonna be fine."

"Great, now close that book of yours and come help me with our new assignment for Glee," Puck tapped the spot, next to him on the bed, invitingly.

Sam smiled and got up to sit down next to him, making sure their bodies weren't making any physical contact.

"I can't find a good song that we could use," Puck muttered, his eyes fixated on his laptop.

"Yeah, this assignment is kinda hard… I mean, "songs that describe your feelings/life", how does Schue come up with it?" Sam said sighing, trying to focus on coming up with things they could use.

"Don't get me started," Puck grumbled, "I feel like he's messing with me on purpose. Everyone knows the Puckasaurus doesn't do feelings."

Sam chuckled a little. He always did when Puck used that awful nickname for himself, but he knew he was right. Puck never talked about feelings, he was more of a physical kind of guy. That was one of the most important reasons why Sam didn't feel like sharing his secret with Puck. He would probably ignore it and act like nothing was going on and Sam didn't want that. He wanted a conversation, to see if that could ease his troubled mind.

"…Right, Sam? Sam?" Puck looked at him with questioning eyes.

Damn it, he had wondered off again.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Puck sighed irritated and Sam thought about the comment his best friend had made earlier, about him being absent, but Puck wouldn't be Puck if he wouldn't let it go. So he did.

"I was saying that we probably have to do a mash-up, because Schue's assignment involves a slash, and all."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Sam thought about it for a while. He found it hard to believe Puck had actually picked up on some second meaning. Maybe the mohawked boy was more skilled than he thought.

Puck went onto Google, typing "Meaningful songs" into the search bar. He clicked the fifth link, a Yahoo! Website, where some kid had been asking for meaningful songs. A couple of people had replied and Sam and Puck scrolled down the list of names.

"Wait, Simple Plan," Puck suddenly exclaimed, "that sounds familiar."

"That's because it's one of your horrible mottos," Sam teased.

"Shut up, Evans," a grin showed on Puck's face, "Seriously though, the song's called 'Welcome to my life', that's almost too good to be true."

"Let's look it up on Youtube," Sam offered.

"A clip with lyrics," Puck responded.

He put on the sound on his laptop and the voice of a young man started singing. Their music was kind of alternative, a genre that would fit Sam and Puck's voice well.

His heart dropped when his eyes gazed over the lyrics, really taking them in. _"Do you lock yourself in your room?"_ Sam felt his stomach turning when the chorus came on. O my god. This song was about him. He had actually felt that way. What the…

"What do you think?" Puck asked when the instruments had died down.

"I wanna use it," Sam answered almost immediately.

"Really?" Puck moaned, smashing his own forehead with his hand, "dude, this shit is like, so depressing and all."

"So?"

"The assignment said we had to choose a songs that we feel describes our feelings, or life," Puck reminded him.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Sam replied stubborn, he looked right into Puck's eyes intently, noticing their hazel color.

"Fine," Puck gave in, "but I'm choosing the second one."

"Seems fair."

After another half an hour of searching Puck had landed on "First time", by Lifehouse. Sam's actually surprised, because the song's about being in love and all. He never expected Puck to be eager for that feeling or something, maybe another piece of evidence on his theory about Puck being more self-conscious than he acted.

At the end of the afternoon, Sam and Puck were happy with their end result, they mashed their songs pretty rad.

"Dude, this actually sounds awesome!" Puck uttered excited.

"It kinda is," Sam said with the same amount of excitement, "who would've thought that those two songs would mix that well."

"I know, right! We're gonna rock this thing, Evans," Puck pointed out his fist towards him. Sam laughed and balled his hand, pushing back on Puck's. He felt the rough skin of Puck's knuckles brushing against his and a little tingle went through his body.

That night Sam's at his room again, downloading entire albums of the band he had newly discovered today. He had plugged his earphones into his laptop, so that he wouldn't wake his parents. The music was screaming in his ears and he found it soothing. Most of the songs really described how he felt, how messed up he was inside. Sam finally felt like he has something to relate to, and it wasn't a person, but a band. Why hadn't he thought of that himself?

But Sam hadn't noticed that his excitement wasn't one of the good kind. Sure, the songs described his life, but they were bringing him down. They weren't giving him something to hold onto, but the voice in Sam's head told him to not mind. When "Welcome to my life" came on again, he had stopped with quietly singing along with the lyrics. Every verse consisted of questions, depressing questions, questions Sam could all answer affirmatively to. At the end of the song, he pulled his earplugs out, tears burning behind his eyes. He sucked his bottom lip in and started chewing on it, realizing how bad he was doing.

O r how miserable he actually was. He had kept his secret for over a year now and it was starting to tear him apart. Nobody saw this though, and if anyone would, no one would probably care, Sam thought. He was alone.

Tears started dropping onto his pants and he bit his lip a little harder, trying to hold them back. Suddenly, everything fell into place. He had noticed about the shocks of pain going from his mouth to his brain and it was easing his mind. It was makes him feel calmer. That's what that person on the chat had meant! Cut it out. He hadn't meant to just stop it, but literally.

Sam's hands were trembling when he opened his desk drawer, finding his scissors in it. He grabbed them slowly and opened them, considering if it was worth it. His vision blurred because of the water in his eyes when he felt the cold metal against his skin. A mix of angst, desperation and relief washed over him when he felt the stinging pain going through his upper arm. He dropped the scissors on the floor and opened his eyes to look. A thin line of blood was showing at the top of his arm and he let out a soft sob at it. He picked up one of the dirty towels that were lying on his bedroom floor, dabbing his cut clean and letting out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding. He was feeling fine. He was okay. The voice in his head was silent again and a smile cringed at the corners of his mouth.

Ignoring the fact he had done awfully wrong that night.


	2. Chapter 2 Puck

__**Here's the second part of my introduction. Thank you for all the subscriptions and the few reviews, it really motivates me. :]**

**But still, just enjoy! ;p**

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><p><em>Chapter two <em>– Puck

Noah Puckerman was a badass. Everyone around him knew this and he was more than satisfied with it. Fear was unknown to him and he felt secure, strong, because he knew that no one had the guts to ever try to mess with him.

But knocking Quinn up two years ago had changed him in the slightest of ways. He had experienced new parts of himself, a more softer side. It scared him at first, because he wasn't used to actual _feeling_, but after a while he figured he didn't had to show that side to anyone around him, so he was doing fine again.

His friendship with Finn had died down – because of that fucking Berry – and Puck found himself in need of a new partner to stroll around with. When Sam Evans became QB on the football team and turned out to be an amazing singer at Glee Club, he knew he had found his new best friend.

Sam was cool, just like Puck. His position on the football team gained him some quick respect from the rest of the guys at school and Puck enjoyed hanging out with him. Sam had shown him his comic book collection and Puck found that, even when the fake-blond was being a total dork, he still had that robust appearance. Sam was easy going and Puck noticed that his softer side was coming more to the surface some times when he was around the guy. Puck had always silently pushed that feeling though, trying to keep his game up.

"Hey man!" Puck shouted, running towards Sam, who was standing by his locker.

"Hey, what's up, Puck?" Sam smiled, friendly as always.

Puck took a second to gaze at Sam's huge mouth again, admiring the white teeth his grin showed and his soft-looking, plump lips around them… What the fuck? Did he actually just thought that?

"I wondered if you wanted go to my place after practice? You know, playing some Halo and stuff."

"Sure thing, dude," Sam's smile grew even wider and Puck felt a twitch in his stomach.

Why the hell did that happen to him lately? Had he been eating something strange or what? He knew that food at the cafeteria was deadly.

"But please promise me you won't start crying this time, when I beat you," Sam continued, grabbing some books from his locker.

Puck frowned irritatingly at Sam for stepping on his ego.

"Dude, stop flattering yourself, that never happened," awesome, now he sounded like a five year-old, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Yeah, right," Sam chuckled.

Puck always enjoyed their competitive spirits, it made him feel manly. He slammed Sam's locker, closing it, and displayed a semi-angry look on his face, not noticing Sam rubbing his left arm that the sharp door apparently had hit.

"You'll see, Evans," Puck said, starting to walk to their next classes, "I happened to have had some practice lately."

"Like that's gonna save you from my killing streak," Sam laughed out loud.

Puck was about to give Sam a friendly push, when he saw Sam's hand's looking red.

"Dude, what the fuck is up with your hand?" he uttered, grabbing it, "is that blood?"

Sam was showing a shocked gaze at his own hand and opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Puck looked back at his blood-covered limb and turned Sam's arm to see a trail leading up the sleeve of his white shirt. Puck than looked back at Sam, confusion and weirdness showing on his face.

"I… I, uhm…" Sam started stuttering.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Puck interrupted him, leading Sam to the nearest restroom.

The bell sounded through the hallways to announce fifth period had started.

"You should go to class," Sam said, "I'm fine, really."

"First you gonna tell me what the hell is wrong with you," Puck's arms locked before his chest and he looked at Sam expectantly.

"Nothing, I just scratched myself when you slammed the door of my locker shut , in that exaggerating way."

Puck considered Sam's explanation for a brief moment, but started to feel angry when Sam was rolling up his sleeve and Puck saw a cut on his arm. He shivered at the sight of it, it looked very deep.

"Jesus Christ, Evans, are you fucking kidding me?" he almost yelled, grabbing Sam's arm again, examining the wound carefully, "I'm not stupid, every moron can see that this hasn't come because of a stupid locker-door."

Sam just shrugged and started splashing water onto his arm, washing away the dried up blood.

"Tell me what happened," Puck demanded.

"I already told you," Sam refused.

Puck let out an irritated breath and scuffled closer to Sam, leaning next to the mirror above the sink. He closed his eyes for a short moment and allowed himself to let his softer side come to surface a little.

"Sam, you know you can tell me anything, right?" he said softly, gazing at the blond bangs in front of Sam's eyes.

For a split second Puck thought he could see a change in Sam's appearance, but it was gone as soon as he had noticed it.

"There's nothing wrong, Puck," Sam looked up, smiling confidently at him and Puck felt the pressure lifting from his shoulders.

"Good, because if someone had did that to you, I would've killed him," he smiled, satisfied with the fact he could out his protectiveness to Sam.

"I know you would," Sam chuckled lightly and grabbed some paper towels from the machine beside him, drying his arm. The bleeding had stopped and the cells in his body were working hard to heal his wound again.

"Good. Now let's get to class."

Puck's bedroom door opens as he puts down his guitar, looking up at the doorway. Sam is taking out his earplugs and Puck can hear the sound of a song that's familiar to him.

"Hey man!" he exclaims. God, why was he always getting that happy feeling when Sam was around him? It certainly was not cool and he had to stop it, "you know, you can stop listening to Simple Plan, 'cause we already performed our mash-up."

"Hi," Sam smiled at him before he shrugged his shoulders, "yeah, I know, but I guess I kind of like it."

Puck vaguely remembered the depressing lyrics of the song, but decides not to get into it. If Sam likes it, then it's okay.

"So, you ready for some ass-kicking?" Puck asked with an evil grimace plastered on his face.

"Pf, are you?" Sam scoffed at him.

In response, Puck threw one of his controllers at Sam's head, who on his turn, caught it fiercely while sitting down on the floor. Puck joined him, resting his back against the side of his bed. He notices his and Sam's shoulder brush slightly and normally he would've scooted to the other side, but he actually likes it, so he chooses to stay put and not think about. Because thinking about it would make it awkward, and gay, and Puck wasn't, end of story.

"God, fucking, damn it!" Puck yelled out after Sam's character had killed him for the sixth time.

Sam started laughing and teasing him – like kids always do – and Puck throws a punch at him, but his nothingness.

"Oh, are we switching to real life violence now?" Sam asked surprised, still a nagging undertone in his voice.

"Go fuck yourself, Evans," Puck responded.

"Oh, Noah, you're such an awful loser," Sam continued.

Puck winces at Sam using his other name. He hates it. And he knows Sam knows he hates it, so he had to use it on purpose. He drops his controller and throws himself on top of the boy, pushing him to the ground. Sam starts laughing uncontrollably when Puck's poking his sides.

"No one messes with the Puckasaurus!" Puck exclaimed, now sitting on Sam's lap, pushing his arms next to his blond head.

"You know, I really hate that nickname," Sam said, lifting his head closer to Puck's, provoking him even more.

Puck can see the joy glistening in Sam's green eyes and for a moment the world around him disappears. The only things he seems to notice is Sam's warm breathing against his face and the smell of his cologne infiltrating his nose, listening to the dork's slightly fast heartbeat.

Back to reality, Puck is lying on top of Sam and enjoying it. He jumps off and starts feeling uncomfortable, so he slides a hand through his mohawk and tries to quickly pull himself together again, pretending to be nonchalant about it. Sam doesn't seem to notice Puck's awkwardness and that settles him down. Apparently Sam didn't thought he was acting weird, so supposedly wasn't.

"Another round?" he asked accordingly, grabbing the controller and selecting the right settings.

Two weeks had past when Puck had decided to hang out less with Sam. It wasn't like the dorky boy had done something wrong, but Puck felt like he needed to spend some time with a girl. He didn't like to admit it, but found that Sam's presence sometimes made him act like a complete idiot and he needed to get out of it for a while. Puck wanted to hook up with a girl he already knew, but therefore, his options were kind of limited. Berry was with Finn and Mercedes was with Shane and even Santana and Brittany seemed to had timed their getting together perfectly, so that the only one left who had Puck's interest, was Quinn.

Kissing her and feeling her soft skin against him got him feeling slightly normal again, even though Quinn wouldn't put out with him. She had considered that the last time they did had end up in them having a fucking baby, so she was probably right. But in that moment, Puck also swore to himself to never have children again; if it would always end up in his woman not wanting to be physically with him anymore.

But despite the fact that he and Sam didn't hang out that often anymore, didn't change that Puck was constantly keeping an eye on him. The image of the wound on Sam's arm still flashed through his mind occasionally and it still alerted him, though it looked like Sam was doing fine and it wasn't like they hadn't spoken in those few weeks, so Puck's mind was at ease again.

"Damn, Evans, I thought you were gonna run me over on that last strike," Puck padded Sam's shoulder.

"Haha, thanks, your block was effective, though," Sam complemented back.

Puck grinned while stripping out of his filthy clothes. Yes, he was definitely back to feeling like his old self again. The locker-room was already emptying when he finished his shower and found Sam still wearing his uniform, smiling at his cell phone.

"Dude, aren't you gonna shower?" Puck questioned.

"Yeah, sure, man. I was just a little preoccupied by my phone," Sam answered.

"What were you doing?"

"Just texting."

"With who?"

"No one."

Puck frowned at Sam's short responses, but let it go. He tied his shoelaces, or actually, crammed them to the bottom of his feet, when he noticed Sam took awfully long to take his clothes off. It was ridiculous and starting to bother him.

"What's wrong?" he asked shortly.

"Nothing, why?" Sam shot back.

"You're acting… Weird," Puck said, looking at his friend from head to toe.

"You're crazy," Sam smiled.

But Puck notices something different about his smile. He knew Sam's pretty well – he had examined it a disgustingly lot – and this was one was off. Like it was… Faked… The image of the cut on Sam's upper arm flashes before his eyes again.

"Sorry, dude, maybe you're right," Puck said, trying to sound assuring, "but hurry up! I wanna finish that comic I was reading at your house."

Puck narrowed his eyes, intensely looking at Sam's, who was avoiding his gaze. He knew his excuse was lame, but that didn't matter. If his suspicions were right, Sam would–

"No, I'm sorry, you can't. I've to finish my homework."

Exactly. He would blow him off. Sam had now taken most of his clothes off, except for his shirt and boxers.

"Dude, just hurry up and shower!" Puck adds.

"Why are you rushing me? I told you I can't hang out," Sam fires back.

Puck can hear the frustration in Sam's voice and decides it's time for another approach. He sits down on the wooden bench, his legs on each side and looks carefully at Sam.

"Sam," he begins softly, "can you show me your arm? I was wondering if that wound had left a scar or not…"

Sam shakes his head swiftly and stands up almost immediately. Puck can see his walls going up again and he tries to keep himself from hitting Sam in the face.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong, Sam?" he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, "I'm not fucking blind. You have been acting absent for over a month now and when I walk pass you in the hallways, you look like something's bothering you. Why, Sam? Why?"

"Nothing," Sam answers simply, gazing back hard into Puck's eyes.

Puck can almost touch the defensive tone in Sam's voice and he clenches his fists at it.

"Fine. Suit yourself," he responds, turning his back and slamming the door behind him.

Puck wasn't actually mad at Sam. He was just frustrated. There was something obviously wrong with his best friend, but he had no clue what is was. It was starting to get to Puck and he even found himself over-thinking about it, which was pretty unusual, because he didn't used to think about _anything_. He really did want to get through to Sam, but he just didn't know how to. He had never done feelings and talking, so he found it hard to empathize.

But Puck was getting more determined with every conversation, because he had seen that Sam's pretending had a limit. Sometimes, his defenses would come down and Puck could catch glimpses of the hurt in Sam's eyes. That's why he had texted Sam if he could come over, Puck finally had a plan.

"Good evening, Puck," Sam's mom greeted him, holding the door open for him.

"Hello Ms. Evans, how are you?"

Over the time Puck had come over to the Evans residence, he had learned to be more polite. It wasn't like Sam's parents were like those strict, cold ones like Quinn's, but he kind of felt the need for them to accept him. He knew he hadn't the most great first impression at parents, but the Evans had truly given him a chance to get to know him and Puck had gained their respect.

"Fine, thank you," she responded with a genuine smile, "Sam's up in his room."

"Thanks," Puck mumbled, a nervous feeling spreading through his veins.

He stumbled up the stairs, taking in some deep breaths. His plan had to work, because it was his last. He hated that he had to bring his own guards down to do so, but it was for his friend, his bro. And people do anything for their bros, right?

"Hey, you said you wanted to talk?" Sam had a great way of immediately making him feel uncomfortable again, but Puck tried to shake the nerves off of him.

"Uhm, yeah… I wanted to tell you something about my dad. You know, so that you get to know me a little better."

And so, Puck told the story of his dad running out of him and his mom when he was younger. It was part of his game, not that it was untrue, it's just that he hadn't told anyone about this, because it involved feelings and the Sex Shark didn't do feelings.

It sucked talking about it, though, even when Puck reminded himself of that he was doing it for Sam. His best friend had let him ramble for almost half an hour and Puck noticed it actually felt nice getting it off his chest for once.

But that wasn't why he was here.

"So, there reason I tell you this," Puck ends his story, "is to show you that I trust you. I've never told anyone about this, so I will kick your butt if you ever tell anyone, but I just wanted you to know."

Sam nodded slowly, looking at him intently, probably taking the information in.

"Wow, Puck," he started, "that must have really sucked, growing up without your dad…"

"It's okay. It's in the past," Puck forced a smile, "thanks for listening."

"Thanks for telling," Sam crooked up one of the corners of his mouth, forming a sympathetic look on his face.

"I just wanted to let you know," Puck swallows, "I… I really like you Sam. I know that might sound gay, but I really do. You're the best friend I've ever had."

Puck can almost literally see Sam getting smaller. The boy pulls his knees up to his chest at his words and gazes away from him.

"You're mine too," Sam says softly and Puck notices he's trailing off again.

Puck closed his eyes for a brief moment, calming himself as phase one of his plan had finished. The next part was the hardest, for Sam _and_ himself. You see, Puck had figured he had to manage to keep the atmosphere in the room right now. It was sort of soothing and you could almost physically see the bond they had, but keeping that warm air around them, was difficult. Puck tried to set his ego on mute and pulled out his calmer side. The good side, you could almost say. The part of him that made friends, made him laugh and helped him through rough patches, whether it was school or holding Beth for the first and last time.

Puck sighed deeply once more, before getting in.

"Sam, do you trust me?" he asked.

Sam's face turned to him, looking surprised and confused.

"Of course I do, Puck," he answered.

"Then tell me what's bothering you."

_There were the walls again._

Puck could see Sam's eyes harder and his jaw clenching.

"You know you can tell me anything," Puck adds after a moment of silence.

_There. A crack._

Sam shakes his head, gazing down at his bed again. His head resting on his knees.

"Yes, Sam, you can," Puck continues, "anything. I will never let you down."

_Boom, another one._

"Leave it, Puck, I'm fine," Sam puts on that weird smile again.

"You're not fine, I can tell."

_Score._

Sam starts chewing on his bottom lip, fumbling with a loose thread on one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

"I care about you, Sam."

_Bulls eye._

Sam sat up, frustration infiltrating the nice atmosphere and in his head, Puck was smiling.

"I'm getting pretty sick of you, Puck!" Sam starts, almost shouting, "you have been on me like this for weeks now and I've told you: Nothing. Is. Wrong."

There it was, Sam's last resort. Puck could see the hardness in Sam's eyes had disappeared, which meant his defenses were down. That's the reason Sam raised the tone of his voice, his last attempt to put Puck off.

Puck inhaled deeply, now totally stepping out of his own comfort zone. He can hear Sam's hard breathing and he silently takes his left hand. Without losing eye contact, he grabbed the sleeve of Sam's shirt and pulled it up slowly. He saw tears starting to form in Sam's eyes, pursing his lips into one thin line. Puck's hand went back down on Sam's arm, brushing over crusts and scars, feeling nauseous as he did, taking Sam's hand again.

"It's okay," Puck whispers.

And Sam breaks. Right in front of Puck. He started sobbing and Puck was instantly starting to feel uncomfortable again. Fuck, he didn't want to make Sam _cry_. For the love of God, what does a person doe when his bro is tearing up?

Puck lets go of Sam's hand, feeling his harder side coming back again. He bluntly stares at Sam while his heart is throbbing in his chest. Shit, shit, shit. What now?

"I… I'm… It's just that…" Sam started stuttering, trying to grab himself together.

"You what?" Puck pushes.

"I think I'm…" Sam had stopped sobbing and Puck saw him swallowing the lump in is his throat, "gay…"

Puck blinks a few times at his friend, taking in the information. Seriously, that's it? He had actually expect that Sam had been threatened with death or something, the way he was acting lately, but he's just gay?

"Okay," Puck responds.

Sam looked up at him, his eyes red from crying.

"Okay?" he repeats confused.

"Yeah," Puck shrugs, "I don't care. I mean, I'm used to Hummel and you aren't exactly like him, hell, you're the straight opposite of him, and I still like him, so… Yeah. Okay."

A moment of silence falls around them, with Puck still placing the new information and Sam probably with removing the surprised look on his face.

"So, you're not mad or something?" Sam asks after a while.

"No, dude!" Puck automatically exclaims, "we're fine!"

His eyes fall onto Sam's arm, still revealing the cuts and scars on it and feels is stomach churning again. Looking at it really makes him feel sick and awkward, so he decides to not ask about it. Now that Sam had told his secret to him, he would probably stop doing that to himself anyway, so it had no point.

"For how long have you know?" he accordingly asks.

"Over a year," Sam answers softly.

"And you told no one up until now?"

"Nope."

Puck's eyebrows lift surprisingly.

"Guess that explains why you've been so messed up lately," he snorts, trying to get rid of the atmosphere he had put so much effort into creating.

Sam chuckles softly, but Puck can see the corners of his mouth are being pulled down by his subconscious.

"Oh, dude," he sighs, "c'me here!"

He wraps his arms around his friend, hugging him tightly. A warm feelings spreads around his chest and he starts laughing a little, feeling silly they had made such a big deal out of this.

"You could've just told me," Puck says into his shoulder.

"I was scared," Sam responds.

"Well, you didn't have to be," Puck breaks their embrace, "the Puckasaurus always has the backs of his bros."

Sam wiped the tears of his face and started laughing and Puck smiled back for making the blond laugh again.

"But he doesn't do hugs," he then adds, "so this was an exception."

Sam nods understandingly, a grin still showing on his face.


	3. Chapter 3 Sam

**Here's chapter three! I would still love your awesome feedback, guys! ;D Really appreciating your effort. :]**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter three <em>– Sam

_So I've told Puck yesterday._

Sam was sitting in front of his laptop again. It had started to be a normal routine to him; at day he would go to school, acting like nothing was wrong and at night he would chat.

_That's great, Sam. How did he react?_

He was chatting with the same boy who had told him about the cutting-thing. That might seem strange, but he actually liked the guy. Yes, the one he was talking to was a guy. A gay guy, actually, and Sam had talked to him almost every night since two weeks or so. His name's Sean and he's a little older than Sam expected him to be; twenty-six. Sam knows it should've bothered him the guy was ten years older than he is, but it didn't. Sean had really shown interest in him and he kind of made Sam feel good about himself. He would listen to his rambling about how much he had started to hate himself and cheered him up when that had made him feel down again. He had mentioned a couple of times to meet up, but Sam found himself too scared to actually go through with it.

The second time they had talked on the chat was purely coincidental. Sam had taken the same name he had the first time he got on – something he normally didn't do – and Sean was actually online to look for him. He wanted to apologize for giving Sam that extreme advise. He had told Sam he was having a weak moment himself, but that he had regretted it the moment he said it. That was also the reason why he, so suddenly, had gone offline that first time.

Sam had forgiven him and Sean had told a little bit about himself. When he was around Sam's age, he had the same feelings Sam's having now. He even got diagnosed with manic-depressive disorder. Sam could almost perfectly relate to the symptoms Sean was giving him, so Sam had started to assume he was depressed too, even though he didn't know for sure. Sean had told him that he got rid of it for the most part, but that he sometimes was having a fallback, referring to the night they first chatted.

_Good, actually, I hadn't expected that, well, kind of. Puck was really okay with it, it didn't bother him, that surprised me. But I did expect that he wouldn't talk with me about it, and he didn't. So yeah…_

It was true. Sam was happy about the fact that Puck had been so cool about his coming out, but he found it disappointing that it hadn't started a conversation between them. It was almost like Puck had two different sides; one being the familiar "Puckasaurus", who didn't take crap from anyone and wasn't scared to kick someone's face in, and the other one, a much more kinder and more caring side. The last one was the side of Puck which had caused Sam to crack. It was also the side of Puck that had told him the truth about his dad. Sam really liked Puck in that moment and he was sad when the "Puckasaurus" was taking the upper hand again. The nice bubble, created by their trust and security, had popped and Sam had found himself feeling that loneliness he had gotten used to over the past year.

_I'm sorry to hear that, Sam, but you know… People who aren't like us, won't understand us. They just don't get where we're coming from and they don't really care._

A wave of sadness washes over Sam, catching him off guard.

_I guess you're right…_

Sam fumbled with the ends of his sleeves, his gaze going at the window, play backing the lyrics of one of Simple Plan's songs with his mouth. The soft lightning of a streetlight silently illuminating his sight. A sigh slipped through his lips as the music in his ears died down.

_Don't be sad, Sam. That's why you've got me. :]_

Sam smiled a little at Sean's comment, feeling the ghost of Puck's hand in his, like his friend had hold it yesterday. He suddenly felt the need of being with someone. Just anyone. Just not alone.

_Where did you live again?_ Sam asked therefore.

_Haha, just a twenty minute drive away. We could meet up if you want to._

Sam felt his hands getting sweatier. He trusted Sean, he really did, even though that probably made him naive, because how could you trust someone that you only knew through a computer screen, but he did. And he would really like someone's presence right now… His fingers hovered over the keyboard, formulating a response.

_Some other time, okay? It's already getting late and I have school tomorrow._

_Okay._

_Please, don't be mad, I really want to meet you, but tonight's a little soon I guess…_

_I'm not mad, Sam, it's okay. I just would really like to meet you._

Sam felt the tension leave his body. Sean truly is a good guy, because if he wasn't, than he wouldn't let it go that easily.

_Thanks. You're sweet. And I want to meet you too._ He types.

_No, I'm not, I just understand. ;]_

Sam smiles at his laptop. It felt so nice talking to him, it was so easy. He decides to compliment Sean back, giving him some reassurance.

_Haha. :] To be honest, I can't wait to actually see you and to… I don't know… Maybe it's too soon, but… To hold your hand and stuff…_

Sam clenches his jaw when he hears the voice inside his head laugh at him. Holding hands? Seriously Sam? Sean's twenty-six, he probably passed that border ages ago. And even if he hadn't done that with someone, why the hell would he be interested in doing that with you?

_It's not too soon. ;] But just holding hands…? Make that feeling my arms lock around you._

Sam's mind immediately brought him back to his night with Puck. He had felt so safe with his head on Puck's shoulder, only imaging doing it with Sean made him…

But they would never meet, the voice in Sam's head convinced him, because Sam was too much of a crybaby. He would never decide to take the small risk and let himself experience something he was so eager to experience. He sucked in his bottom lip and his eyes went to the drawer under his desk. He considered making the small the voice in his head shut up again, when he noticed Sean was typing something.

_Well, you're not responding at that and I can take a hint, so, good night, Sam. I'm off to bed. :]_

Sam shocked when he read that sentence and Sean's status switched to offline. He started cursing himself for his dyslexia, causing him to not being able to read any faster and thereby causing to have less time to respond. He wanted to kick himself for being so insecure about every little thing and he most certainly wanted to make the voice in his head disappear, because this was one of the many times it had screwed things up.

He felt himself getting frustrated again, turning the volume on his laptop possibly louder, while a flood of thoughts raged through his head. Before he even realized it, his arm was bleeding again, a mix of good and bad feelings swimming through his veins.

But his head was being silent again.

Sam was starting to feel more alone every day. After their conversation, Puck had decided, one again, to keep some distance. He probably thought that Sam hadn't noticed the first time, but he had. He accepted it though. The first time was after their friendly fight, ending with having Puck's muscular body on top of him… Stop thinking about Puck's body as _muscular_, you sound like a creep. And now Sam had told him his secret. Sam figured it apparently had made Puck feeling uncomfortable after all, because he was all over Quinn again.

But Sam could handle Puck's fading the first time, because he had Sean to talk to. Only this time, he hasn't. Sam had been on the chat every night for a week now and Sean hadn't shown himself. Why did he have to screw everything up like that? Every. Fucking. Time. Did he had a thing for it or something?

Suddenly, the familiar, white icon popped up at his screen and Sam clicked it as fast as he possibly could.

_Hey Sam._

Sam typed as fast as he could, scared that Sean might go offline again.

_Sean! O my god, finally! I'm so sorry for the last time we spoke, I was caught up in my thoughts, so I forget to respond. I'm sorry, I know how it must've looked…_

His foot was nervously tapping the floor.

_It's okay. I overreacted and forget to tell you I was going out of town for business, so I didn't had any time to chat._

Sam let out a relieved sigh. It's okay. Sean's not mad and he just wasn't able to talk to him. Everything's okay.

_Don't bother, it's fine. :] Hey! I started thinking and figured this way to talk to each other really sucked. So do you have Skype?_

At least Sam's depression hadn't clouded his cleverness. He had been so sad this week and the chat really wasn't helping him at all. Every time he heard the sound of a new message being sent to him he had been disappointed, because it was someone else on the chat trying to start a conversation with him, and Sam wasn't interested in that.

_Why haven't I thought of that? I sure do! Here you are:_

A couple of minutes later Sam and Sean were chatting via Skype, Sam slightly getting more comfortable at realizing this was a step further in their virtual friendship.

_You never told me you've got a cam! _Sean typed.

Sam smiled, but felt the nerves creeping into his body again. He had forgotten that Skype could show Sean that. This could only lead to one thing…

_Yeah, I do. :]_

_Can you put it on?_

There it was. It shouldn't be a big deal to him, but it was. What if Sean saw him and his appearance would scare him away? Then he would lose him for good and, giving the past week, he didn't like that _at all_. Of course you'll scare him away, the voice in his head sounded.

_Sure._

It felt good to go against his head at times, but it still didn't make him feel less nervous. He saw his webcam loading and hold his breath when he saw his face pop up on the screen.

_Wow._ Sean said.

_Good or bad?_ Sam asked, clenching his fists tensely.

_Sam, you're hot… Damn…_

He felt his body relaxing and his cheeks reddening a little. Good thing his webcam's quality wasn't that amazing to show that.

Suddenly his door flew open and Sam's heart skipped a beat, staring at his doorway.

"Hey man, how've you been?"

"Puck…" Sam said confused, his voice barely audible.

Seriously, was everything getting better at once again? Could it really be?

"Hey dude, I'm great, thanks," Sam stumbles, grabbing himself together.

"Yeah?" Puck pointed at his laptop, walking towards him, "what you're doing?"

Sam quickly turned to slam his screen down, but Puck was a little faster, firmly holding it.

"Are you camming? With a dude?" he gives his friend a weird look, "and he told you that you look hot…"

Sam notices Puck's voice getting lower at his last sentence. Tension filled the room and for a moment Sam thought he had caught a glimpse of something that looked like jealousy.

"What's his name?" Puck scraped his voice, regaining his coolness again.

"Sean…"

"You've never mentioned him before?"

_Who's that?_

Instead of answering Puck's question first, Sam's fingers turned to his keyboard.

_Puck._

_Ah, your best friend! Hey Puckerman, how are you?_

"But you have told him about me, apparently," Puck mumbles, faking a smile and waving at the screen.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, he's really nice though," Sam says, trying to not be intimidated by Puck's attitude about it, "he's gay too."

"I see. And how old is our new best friend?" Puck scoffs.

"He's not my new best friend. I just happen to talk to him very often and he's a really good guy," Sam stumbles offended.

"Don't avoid the question."

"Twenty-six," Sam whispers.

He could see Puck clenching his jaw, biting his tongue inside his mouth.

"And have you two already met?"

"Not yet, but we're going to."

"Yeah, don't think so," Puck decides, irritatingly looking at the screen.

_Talk to you later, okay?_ Sam closes his conversation with Sean, instantly shutting down his webcam.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"That you're not going to meet him," Puck smiled at him, slightly pissing Sam off.

"And who are you to tell me that?" he shot.

"Your best friend, you moron," Puck pokes Sam's forehead with his finger, "even a six year-old could tell he's trying to get into your pants."

Sam wipes Puck's index finger of his head and stands up, feeling the need to move his body as he's getting upset.

"How can you say that? You don't even know him like I do!"

"Jesus Christ, Sam, don't be a girl about this, you know I'm right."

Sam winces at Puck's insult. Why was he being such a dick about this?

"I guess Sean was right about people like you not taking the time to understand me," he mumbles softly, gazing to the ground.

"_What_ did he say?" Puck almost ran closer to Sam, grabbing his chin and holding his head up, but not in a hurtful kind of way.

"You heard me," Sam snorts, secretly enjoying that he's hurting Puck, "you don't care about me. You only care about your stupid self and about Quinn."

"I'm sorry? I don't _care_ about you?" Puck coldly repeats, "fuck you, dude! I was being a total bro to ya when you told me about you being gay."

He whispers the last word, reminding himself of the fact that Sam's parents are downstairs.

"Yeah, and then you kept your distance from me. Again," Sam shoots back.

Puck seemed put off by that and lets go of Sam's chin, gazing away. Sam can see Puck's appearance changing again, feeling a little relieved.

"Sam… That wasn't about you being gay," Puck now looks intensely at him and Sam notices the hazel again.

"Well, then what was?" Sam asks.

"I can't tell you. It doesn't matter," Puck answers, "but I'm sorry for giving you that feeling."

Sam can feel his chest tighten at Puck's apology, it really means something to him, considering he had almost never heard Puck say that.

"You're really sure it's not because of me?" Sam asks for the last time, "because if it is, Puck, you should just tell me…"

"It's not."

Sam let's a out a deep breath, feeling relieved.

"And I would've hugged you, right now," Sam can see the Puckasaurus is back again, "but I told you; it was a one-time thing."

He winks at him and Sam just has to laugh, not at the ridiculous nickname this time.

"And if you're gonna meet that… Sean… You're telling me when it'll be and where you guys will be going, deal?"

"Deal," Sam nods, actually happy with the pact, it made him feel a little more confident about actually meeting Sean.

"Great, because if something would happen to you, I would never forgive myself."

"That's not something the Puckasaurus would say," it's out of Sam's mouth before he realizes it and he wants to bang his head against the wall for it.

Puck blinks a couple of times at him, looking surprised and confused. He slides a hand through his mohawk and turns around the room awkwardly.

"Now give me that comic I still had to finish."

The rest of the evening Sam and Puck spent hanging out at his bedroom, just reading comics and playing videogames. In that time Sam's mind has stayed clear of awful thoughts and voices. Spending time with his best friend always had that effect on him, but now he had actually realized that. Their conversations were light and mostly revolved around all-day activities like school and hobbies.

A knock on the door caused them to pause the game they were playing, Sam still owning Puck, and Sam's mother's poking her head around the corner, smiling genuinely.

"Sam, sweety, your dad and I are off to bed. Puck should probably go home too," she instructs them.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam nods, looking swiftly at Puck while he does, "sleep tight."

"You too."

"Good night, ma'am," his best friend smiles.

"Drive safely, Puck," Sam's mother responds. Sam could see Puck's kindness intrigued her. She turned on her heel to walk out of the room, but came back, seeming to have reminded something.

"Oh, and Sam," she continues, "keep in mind that your father and I will be away for a couple of days, next week. I'll make sure that enough groceries will be in the house, so that you don't have to buy them yourself."

"Thanks, mom."

The door closed with a soft click and Sam shut down his X-BOX 360.

"Your mom's really nice," Puck breaks the silence.

"Yeah, I guess she is," Sam responds, "a little too nice sometimes."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, she always sees the best in people and that's not a bad thing, but it sometimes makes her a little naïve," he explains.

"So I guess you inherited that from her," Sam gave Puck a confused look, not understanding what he meant by that, "you know, about the whole meeting Sean stuff."

Sam rolled his eyes shortly, annoyed with the fact that Puck brought it up again.

"Puck, let it go, I already promised you that I will tell you when and where, if it happens."

"Just wanted to hear you say that one more time," Puck smiled and Sam read the soft and protective look in his eyes. Puck stared back into his and for a moment they didn't speak. Right when Sam started feeling awkward, noticing the intimate atmosphere in the room, Puck suddenly breaks their gaze. Had he felt it too?

"Well, I should be going then," he muttered.

Probably not. Puck stood up and stretched his back, probably aching from sitting on the floor the whole night. Sam did the same thing, before dawdling behind Puck down the stairs. He waved goodbye when Puck's truck pulled up.

When Sam was back in his room, the loneliness closed his tight grip around him again. He instantly felt himself getting sad and decided he didn't want to go to bed already, so like he now did almost every night, opened his laptop. When he had logged onto Skype, he saw Sean was still online.

_Hey! What ya' doing?_ Sam typed.

_Nothing much, couldn't sleep. Had fun with Puck tonight?_

Sam smiled at Sean's response, glad that he apparently wasn't the only one not wanting to lay down yet.

_Yeah, it was okay. Just the usual hanging out._

_Sam, can I ask you something?_

Sam swallowed curiously at the sudden change in the conservation they just had started.

_Of course._

_I got the feeling Puck wasn't too happy when he saw our conversation earlier, was it just me or…?_

Sam sighed, hating that Sean had noticed. He really wanted them to get along eventually and this first impression certainly wouldn't help him with that, but he also didn't want to lie to Sean.

_Yeah, I'm sorry… I guess he's just a little protective sometimes. I told him about you and that we were thinking of meeting up sometime and Puck let me promise to him that I would tell him when and where if we did._

_Seriously?_

_Yeah…_

Sam was now nervously tapping his fingers on his desk. It's weird that people can get tense because of a virtual talk.

_That's kind of insulting. But I get it… Considering he only knows me through you and you only know me through a computer screen, but are you really going to text him every half an hour, when we meet up? I mean, come on, you're not a child anymore._

Sam thought about that for a minute. Sure it wouldn't hurt to let Puck know where he was and if he was doing okay every now and then, but it sure made him feel like he was ten years-old or something.

_Meh, I'll think about it, but before I forget! Our meet-up could be planned next week, if you want to. I'm home alone for a few days, so maybe you wanna come over by then? We could watch a movie or something._

_I don't know, Sam… What would your neighbors think when they see a slightly old male leaving your house late at night?_

_You're not old! But maybe you're right._

_Haha, thanks. We'll figure something out._

A fuzzy feeling spreads around his chest when Sam – for yet another time – thinks about how great Sean is. He really takes his feelings into consideration and doesn't push him at all.

_Like, you could come to my house?_

But, there was Sam's anxiety again, making his body shiver, trying to shake it off.

_Awesome! We'll agree on the time in a few days, okay? Because I don't know how school will turn out that week._

_Sounds great._

A few days passed in which Sam's left arm really got to bother him. When he slid his fingers across his scars he somehow felt smaller and protected, which was making him feel slightly more confident. It was like no one and nothing in the world could hurt him, because he was already causing the hurt himself and that made him feel like he was control, like feeling worthless had a limit. And when reminding himself of his self-harm didn't work, he thought about suicide. It wasn't like he considered it, it just soothed him to know he always had a way out. Even though it was kind of an extreme one.

He also perfectly understood thinking of that stuff wasn't normal, but he didn't mind. Like Sean had said: "If it stays at thoughts, it couldn't hurt." So that was what Sam intended. Not implementing that his thoughts actually _were_ he hurt.

He did realize the constant fight between himself and his mind was draining him. He couldn't keep up with his schoolwork and found it hard to focus. His nights were getting heavier and getting a good rest had become more difficult, resulting in ugly, dark sacks forming under his eyes.

Sam had even started to think that the voice in his head was sometimes taking over his body. On one particular night he had gotten so scared that… It's just that; usually one quick shock of pain would get him back to his normal self, but that night he had needed several. It freaked him out and because of that particular event, Sam knew he was slipping away even further, but he had pushed that feeling away. It worked, most of the days, but was it was getting harder when Puck actually started talking to him more often. It wasn't like their conversations had any more immersion, but Puck certainly tried to verify if Sam was doing okay more and more.

It probably had to do with their last argument. Puck was still hanging around Quinn and Sam didn't like that at all. He didn't exactly know why, it just bothered him. Sam had felt the urge to walk right through them when they were walking down the hallways, laughingly holding hands, and he wanted to punch Puck in the face every time he smiled at most likely, Sam wanted Puck to talk to him. Sean was great, Sam could really out himself to him, but it wasn't enough. He needed a real person. He needed Puck. Puck's hand holding his, his strong arms around him, the familiar scent of his cologne, telling him it was okay. It always was when he was with Puck.

So, Sam had slipped his jealous words one time, which earned him a confused look from Puck, which resulted in Sam trying to start a conversation, getting Puck to try and ended with Sam getting frustrated when Puck couldn't keep up with what he was saying. And now he was rambling, great. Let's just say it isn't worth explaining, because you would read a part you've already read, referring to the locker-room scene of a few weeks ago.

Anyway, rain had started pouring down onto the football field and Beiste had called it a day. Sam quickly changed clothes – he never showered at school anymore nowadays – because tonight was the night he would go over to Sean's house, gaining a slight chance to sooth his hunkering emotions. He looked at Puck getting undressed, leaving his dirty football outfit on the floor. Sam studied his pecks, his abs, licked his dry lips doing so.

"Dude, are you alright?" Puck pulled him out of his thoughts.

Sam turns around promptly, kind of embarrassed , had Puck notice him staring?

"Yeah, fine," Sam faked a smile.

Puck gave him a weird look.

"You sure? You look a little tense today… Something exciting coming up?"

Sam had considered telling Puck about his plans with Sean tonight, but had decided not to. Puck probably wouldn't let him go to Sean's house and Sam really didn't want to get into another fight with his best friend.

"Not at all," Sam responded, "do you have?"

Puck grinned sneakily at him.

"Quinn invited me over to her house tonight," he said, "she just told me in the hallway that if I came, we would totally get it on,"

Sam clenches his jaw, disgusted by the picture in his mind. Puck's naked body hovering over Quinn's just made him feel like…

"Nice, dude, have fun," Sam responds, trying to withhold his anger, because he should really stop this obsessing over Puck.

The rest of the afternoon Sam couldn't get rid of the image of Puck and Quinn, even if he wanted it so badly. After an hour of confusing thoughts and the voice in his head putting him off again, Sam had turned to the liquor cabinet of his dad's. He didn't to want mess up his body right before going over to Sean and his parents wouldn't be back for another three nights, so he figured he had plenty of time coming up with a good excuse. That _if_ his dad would ever notice, because Sam only took one glass, bearing in mind that he had to drive tonight.

Walking upstairs, a glass of Jack Daniels cola in his hand, he started to try focus on his own evening with Sean. The thought of it excited him and kind of made him feel tough, because he was taking a slight risk – it wasn't really one though, because he _knew_ Sean – but it felt good stepping out of his comfort zone for one time.

When his laptop had started, he automatically opened Skype.

_Sam! I'm so happy that you're online!_

Sam smiled when he read Sean's name above the message. He accepted the invitation Sean had immediately send him, turning on his webcam. He really had gotten more comfortable with it.

_Hey! What's up?_

_I just wanted some time to talk to you. You know, before you're here and stuff. :]_

_Haha, that's okay._

_So how are you feeling?_

Sam took another sip from his glass, calming his nerves a little.

_Mostly excited, but honestly, also panicking a little._

_Why's that? It's me, you know me._

Sam really didn't want to admit to himself that he was scared of the idea of he and Sean, a gay guy who seemed to like him, in the same room. What if Sean tried to get something on with him? It's not like he hadn't thought about it, but imaging Sean's hands running over his body made him feel really insecure.

_But what if the moment comes up and we start to… You know… Do things…?_

_So what?_

_I still feel like crap about my appearance and stuff, Sean…_

Sam sighed deeply, the voice in his head on the front of his mind again. Another gulp of Jack trying to shut him up.

_Sam, don't even think like that. You have a really sweet face and I'm pretty sure the rest of your body is nice, too._

_You don't know that._

_Then show me!_

Sam shocked and gazed at himself on the screen.

_I don't know…_

_It surely would take the edge off of things. Wait, I know, do you still need to get changed?_

Sam swallowed his dry throat and looked down at his sweatpants. He really did need to change… He looked into the webcam and nodded slowly.

_Then just go do your thing! I won't say a thing about it and you won't have to be nervous anymore. :]_

My god, Sam, do you really need to make everything in your life a big deal? Just pull out a nice pair of jeans and a t-shirt, take off your Sunday-clothing and put them on.

Sam inched his laptop, giving Sean a clear view of his room. He stood up, walking towards his closet, his heart heavily throbbing in his chest. He chooses the clothes he wants to wear and puts them down on the bed. With his back turned to his computer screen, he pulls his t-shirt over his head. Sam tries to breath normally when his thumbs slid under the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down in one quick motion. Okay, he was in his boxers now, in front of a webcam. In front of Sean.

He turned on his heel and instantly saw himself through the webcam. A weird feeling in his stomach grew, the voice in his head laughing loudly at him. He felt exposed, small, even a little disgusted with himself. Sam didn't know why, but he felt so _wrong_.

_Damn… Sam… You're fucking hot!_ he read Sean's typed words.

_Do you dare to come up front and pull your boxers down a little? Just for me?_

Sam's mouth fell open because of disbelieve.

_What? Sean, seriously… I don't know I want that._

_Oh come on, Sam! Don't be such a wimp! You're practically naked already!_

Sam's eyes widened, his breath faltering in his throat, the voice in his head almost dying of laughter. Was Sean really saying these things…? Panic shot through Sam's veins and he quickly slammed his laptop closed. The oxygen in his lungs returned and he started to breath heavily. He chugged his glass down, trying to calm himself. Why had he been so dumb? Puck had been right all along, Sean really only did want to get into his pants… How could he had even start to think Sean's intentions were okay? He was nothing to him. He was nothing to anyone. _Nobody_ cared about him. He was a puppet, that if people got hold of the strings of, they could do anything with him.

Tears started running down from Sam's eyes, finally letting them pour, but refusing to sob. His eyes get pulled towards the drawer in his desk and Sam closes his eyes for a brief moment. Considering meeting Sean isn't going to happen tonight, no, wait, scrap that. Meeting Sean is never going to happen, not after this. Sam felt his stomach churn when he noticed he was still standing in his boxers. He quickly pulled on his sweatpants and shirt again and absentmindedly grabbed the scissors out of his drawer. The familiar feeling of the shape of them in his hand gave him that feeling of being in control.

He looked at his empty glass and decided to not care anymore. He ran downstairs, straight to the cabinet, and grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels. But looking at the objects in his hands suddenly shocked him. He put them down on the dinner table and searches his phone in his pocket.

_Puck, can you come over?_

The water in his eyes blurred his vision again. Clenching the electronic device, he really hoped Puck could. His heart skipped a beat when he felt a buzz in his hand.

_Dude, I already told you, I'm at Quinn's tonight._

The world around Sam fell silent as he reached towards the table again. The thought that nobody cared got confirmed. At least he still had his mind-easing stuff, stuff that he could tell all his feelings to, and wouldn't judge him. A quiet sob escaped his body when he realized his best friends were a pair of scissors and a bottle of alcohol. He walked into the living room, dropping himself on the couch, while chewing on the opening of the bottle, the scissors grabbed tightly in his hand.

He wanted out. Not out of the closet, but out of the house. Away from these feelings, away from these thoughts. Sam stood up from the sofa, taking a second to regaining his balance again. He had a weird taste in his mouth and his head pounded. The empty bottle on the floor explained a lot and Sam bent down to pick it up. That's when he noticed the scratches on his arm.

Yup, he needed to get out.

He stumbled out the front door, not caring enough to bring a jacket with him. The cold slammed him in the face and his gaze fell onto his car. He shakes his head walking past it, at least he was sober enough to know it wasn't a good idea to take a drive right now.

He just wanted to walk around the dark neighborhood. It was probably already late, because there were almost no lights on inside the houses surrounding him. He scrapes against a car, parked half on the sidewalk. Sam curses softly as he feels a stinging pain going up his arm, apparently one of his wounds got scratched open and blood started rushing down again. The alcohol had diluted it and it started dripping off his fingertips. He smiled at himself, feeling the need to laugh off the fact he was a pathetic human-being. At least this way the only thing he had to do to get rid of himself was keep walking. He would eventually die because of losing too much blood.

Death; the word echoed through his mind. His final and ultimate way out, but at the same time the most scary one.

Why should he stay, though? It wasn't like anybody had taken the time to notice that he really wasn't doing well. His parents hadn't asked anything, Sean had screwed him over and Puck was too busy trying to conceive another fuck-up with Quinn, so why care?

Why hadn't he thought of this before? It was clear logic. Probably because he was too dumb to do so, just too stupid. What was he even doing on this planet?

Sam stopped his moving when he felt the touch of soft grass coming through the soles of his shoes. He blinked a couple of times and recognized the football field of McKinley High. The field where he had played on for what felt like forever. Not that he was good at it, he wasn't good anything, so it had just been another waste of time. Yes, his life was a waste.

He gazed up to one of the lampposts on one of the corners of the field. His mind went numb again, the voice in his head taking over his body, as he started running towards it.

In one swift motion he was hanging on one of the steel bars, serving as stairs. He pulled himself up and started climbing, anxiously sucking in his bottom lip. When he reaches the top he sucks in a deep breath, carefully trying to stand up on the small platform. The wind sweeps his blond hair out of his bloodshot eyes, his gaze turning down, swallowing at the height.

One step, Sam, and it could all be over. One step away from all this pain. Just one tiny little step forward… He lifted his right foot, holding it above the nothingness beneath him. It seemed so easy, he just had to put it down, imagining that he was just strolling down the street, foot by foot. Step by step… One step…

"Sam!" Sam shocks at the calling of his name and starts to stumble. He quickly steadies himself and gazes down on the football field, but his eyes can't focus because of the alcohol.

"Sam! Are you fucking insane! Get the fuck down here!" the voice sounded again.

"Puck?" Sam feels like reality is hitting him in his face. He suddenly realizes how scared he is of being up here and tries not to move an inch.

"Please, Sam, it's gonna be okay!" Puck shouts again, his hands apparently near his mouth, trying to make his voice sound louder.

Puck's telling him he's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. Puck says so. Puck is here. Puck _cares_.

"Please, don't do something stupid…"

"I don't dare to climb back down again!" Sam yells, "I don't even remember how I got here."

Fear wrapped tightly around his heart, a shot of ice cold panic pumping through his veins. Please, not now, he really needed to keep his calm right now. Please.

"Just slowly bow through your knees and put your hands on the ground beside you!" he hears Puck's instruct him.

Sam nods, not that Puck could see it, and starts bending down. He keeps his gaze up front when he feels his hands touch the platform beneath him, trying to not look down.

"Okay, Sam, now just put one foot on the bar and start climbing."

Sam points out his left foot and after half his leg is down, he feels the steel bar. He braces himself, his hands trying to find some grip onto the platform, putting his other foot down.

Standing on the first bar, he releases a deep breath, steeling his nerves while beginning on his journey to the safe ground.

"You're doing great, Sam! Just take your time," Puck's voice encourages him.

Sam smiles, but thereby, looses focus. The alcohol had almost numbed his fingers, so he really had to concentrate on his grip. Sam's foot slips away. And also his hand. And his other hand. And his last foot.

"Sam!"

Puck's voice covers his whole mind as Sam feels the cold air around him. He has nothing to hold onto anymore, literally. Tears form in the corner of his eyes as he gazes upon the stars. He's falling. He's going to die.

Just when he realizes he doesn't want to.


	4. Chapter 4 Puck

**Writing this chapter was really hard for me, so I hope you guys like it and that you don't feel like I've taken Puck out of character. ;l**

**Please don't forget reviewing! Your words really satisfy me. ^^**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter four <em>– Puck

Puck watches Sam's body hit the ground with a thud and quickly starts running towards him. He lets himself slide onto the grass as he reaches his best friend, who is just gazing up numbly.

"O my fucking God, Sam," Puck muttered, surprised that Sam's eyes are open, and softly pushing the blond bangs out of them, his fingertips barely touching his face, not daring to feel him properly, "are you okay? Talk to me."

Sam silently nods, almost invisible.

"Did you break something?" Puck asks, examining Sam's body with his eyes. His limbs aren't in some weird position, so that's a good thing, right?

"I… I'm…" Sam whispers.

Puck clenches his jaw, his eyes starting to sting. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm fine," Sam says, still looking utterly confused.

"Are you sure?" Puck verifies.

"Yeah…"

"Can you get up?"

Puck holds Sam's shoulders as the boy pushes himself off the grass. Puck quickly sits down behind him, sideways, stretching his arm to give Sam the opportunity to lay against him. Sam looks up at him and for the first time ever in his life, and he will never admit it, Puck can feel his heart breaking. The look Sam's giving him is displaying so many emotions that Puck can't even channel them all. He gazes back as the emerald color of them starts to blur because of the tears forming in them. Puck tightens his grip around Sam, pulling him against his body, as Sam starts crying into him, his knuckles turning white of clenching his fists onto Puck's jacket.

"I… I'm sorry… I didn't know what…" Sam starts sobbing.

"Shush, it's okay, it's okay," Puck clenches his jaw, slightly rocking Sam back and forth, his hand brushing through the blond hair.

Puck listens to Sam's sobbing as he finds himself back into reality. What the hell did he just witness? Was Sam _that_ desperate? Was he feeling _that_ bad? He gazed down at the boy under him and noticed Sam's arm. Fuck. How is it even possible that he hadn't thought more of it before? He knew Sam was feeling like shit. He knew it from the beginning.

But he didn't allow to blame himself. Hell, he had asked Sam so many times what was up with him and after he had told him that he is… Gay… Puck thought this stuff would had been over. Sam had been lying to him after that the whole time. How the fuck could he do that? He should've known he could trust him by know, shouldn't he? Puck's anger started to grow the more he thought about it.

"Come on, let's get you home," he finally said, lifting Sam's upper body, "can you stand?"

Sam just nodded in response, balancing himself on his legs. Puck bit his tongue when he saw Sam stumbling towards the exit of the field, keeping himself from putting an arm around the boy. He knew he should, but it felt wrong. Sam first had to know how about his abandoned feeling.

At the parking place, Puck found his truck and he unlocked it, getting in without giving a look to Sam. He started the engine en started driving in the direction of Sam's house.

"How did you know I was there?" Sam suddenly asked, his head leaning against the side window.

"I found out Quinn only wanted to conceive another baby, so I decided to go, because she'd obviously gone fucking insane. I was parked nearby when I saw you limping down the street and went after you."

Puck clenched his fists around the steering wheel, remembering how Quinn had asked him to have another 'perfect' baby like Beth.

"That sucks," Sam responds, "but I'm glad you found me in time…"

"Yeah, Sam? Are you?" Puck gave up on withholding his rage, "because, I actually figured that you wouldn't care at all, considering that I asked you every fucking day how you were doing and you not giving me a single hint and instead of being honest with me, choosing for the easy way out."

Puck was pointing towards Sam's arm now, but he kept his eyes on the road in front of him. He couldn't even look at him right now.

"I hate it when you're the Puckasaurus," he hears Sam mutter.

Puck does give him a quick gaze when he says that, though, and narrows his eyes.

"How long have you know?" he asks, hating the fact Sam had picked up on his split personality.

"From the first time you tried to figure out what was bothering me," the blond answers.

Puck pulls up on Sam's driveway, turning off the sounds his car had been making. He sighs deeply, trying to appreciate the situation presented to him. Fuck it that Sam knew about his softer appearance. He still owed him an explanation for almost killing himself tonight.

"Why haven't you told me?" Puck asks therefore, looking at the passenger's seat where Sam was sitting nervously.

He shrugs in response, which irritates Puck even more. He throws his door open and walks to the other side of his car.

"Get out," he demands, unlocking Sam's door.

He looks at Sam's confused face hardly and can see the well-known sadness behind his eyes. Apparently Sam didn't take any effort in putting his walls up anymore and, considering that Puck had probably seen him at his worst tonight, that was logical.

"I… It's complicated," he then whispers, avoiding Puck's gaze, "I can hardly explain it to myself… It would be a waste of time trying to tell you."

"Really, dude? Is that it? Or do you just don't want to tell me?" Puck asks, trying to keep his voice low.

Sam starts biting his bottom lip and Puck realizes how vulnerable the boy looks when he does that.

"It doesn't matter. You wouldn't talk to me about it," he answers softly.

Puck furrows his brow in surprise at that reaction.

"What makes you say that?"

"When I told you I… like boys, you didn't talk about it with me either, you just took it," Sam explains.

"Well, I told you I was okay with it, what more was there to say? Fuck, Sam, just tell me what you want."

Puck knew in his heart that he had to keep his patience, but he just couldn't. His night had already sucked with the whole Quinn-drama and he didn't feel like he had the energy to deal with Sam's detaining behavior.

"I just want a conversation," Sam suddenly exclaimed, now looking back into Puck's eyes, "I'm so glad you're okay with me being…"

"Gay," Puck finishes his sentence.

"Yes, that," Sam continues, "but I'm not."

Puck sees the water already coming up in Sam's eyes again.

"What do you mean?" he pushes.

"I… It… Fuck," Sam swallows, "I hate myself for it, Puck. I hate that I'm different. I've known for over a year now and it's still eating me alive."

Puck saw a tear started to roll down Sam's cheek.

"I'm dying inside because of it."

The Mohawked boy stared at his friend for a long time, taking in the information and not knowing what it to say to him. That last sentence shocked him, though. He looked at Sam's house and reminded himself of something.

"Aren't you home alone?" he asked.

Sam nodded in response and Puck felt a little grin creeping onto his face. If Sam wanted a conversation, he could have a fucking conversation. He didn't care if it would take all night, Puck just knew he wanted to help his friend. Sam already knew about his softer side, so he didn't have to feel awkward when he showed it and Sam's parents weren't home, so they couldn't get disturbed. It was perfect.

He grabbed Sam by his t-shirt and roughly pulled him out of his truck, slamming the door shut.

"What the hell are you doing, Puck?" Sam uttered.

"You wanted to fucking talk, right? We're going to that. You already know every possible detail about me, so I can act around you in every way I want to, which means I trust you, which gives me the opportunity to fully help you," damn Puck, that was some quick thinking.

He looked into the eyes of a relieved Sam.

"Besides…"

Puck closed his eyes briefly, letting go of his secure ego.

"You're my best friend, Sam."

After Puck had practically forced Sam into taking a warm shower, he went downstairs to chug down some coffee, sitting on a kitchen chair in the house that had soon come to grow as almost his second home. Hell, how he cared about Sam. He chuckled at himself lightly, realizing he had never done this stuff with anyone else. Probably also because he had never met someone who made him feel this good. From the beginning of his friendship with Sam, Puck knew it was something special. He also knew saying that out loud would make him sound like he had grown a vagina, so he wouldn't.

But in all honesty, Sam was amazing.

"Puck," his voice almost lit the room, "you can go, I'm going to bed anyway. I'm really tired."

Puck pulled up one eyebrow and shook his head, softly laughing.

"Hell no, we're going to talk, remember? It's what you wanted."

Sam fumbled with the sleeves of his hoodie, gazing towards the ground, when Puck walked towards him.

"What? Suddenly getting cold feet?" he snorts.

"I don't know, I feel weird," Sam whispers to the tiles beneath him.

"Chill out, dude! It's just me!" Puck suddenly exclaims, smiling genuinely, "you're just gonna tell me what's on your mind and I'm gonna help you. We're bros!"

Puck can see Sam gaining a little more confidence and he turns his head up to smile back.

"You wanna go to your room?" Puck asks, "maybe it's more commending."

Hell, he kept surprising himself with his caring side. It still sounded so surreal sometimes, actually hearing what he was saying when his ego had seemed to had left his body.

But it felt good, because he was with Sam.

The two walked upstairs to Sam's room. They sat down on the bed and Puck figured it would be the best place for Sam to let out all of his feelings, because the last time he had, they were in the exact same spot.

"So, tell me," Puck says after getting comfortable.

Sam looks at him with those big doe-eyes and actually starts laughing. Puck gives him a weird look.

"I love your ignorance sometimes, you know that?" he snorted.

Puck's glad that it's dark in Sam's room, because if not, he would probably have seen Puck's cheeks had flushed slightly red.

"Don't give me that crap, dude!" he scrapes his throat, "you know I don't do this shit very often, so give me some time to settle down."

"I will," Sam responds immediately, "now, where to begin…"

The image of the scars on Sam's arm flashes before Puck's eyes.

"Start by explaining what's been happening to your arm."

"Okay…" Puck can see Sam swallowing, "I… er… I did that to m-myself."

Puck can almost literally feel his jaw hitting the bed he's lying on. What the actual fuck? Sam had inflicted those ugly cuts by himself?

"What? Why? How?" he starts stumbling.

"Just let me explain…" Sam softly says, hurt radiating from his body.

Puck feels his chest tighten with every word Sam speaks and he needs a moment when the boy finishes his story. He must've felt pretty fucked up, considering he had taken a pair of scissors and… His stomach churned at the image of Sam hurting himself. And why the hell had that Sean told him about that? He had put an idea into Sam's head. An awful one. Thinking of it really made him wanting to punch the fucker.

"But, _why_ do you do those things to yourself, Sam?" he asks after a moment of silence, "what's the reason?"

"It calms me down," the blond answers, almost making it sound like it was normal.

They both had lay down on the bed; Sam on his back, gazing to the ceiling and fumbling with the strings on his sweater, and Puck on his side, facing Sam, his head resting on his hand.

"In like, the voice in your head stops telling you things?" Puck suggests, trying to understand things better.

"Yeah," Sam nods, "and it's not like I'm schizophrenic or something, it's just the loneliness getting to me…"

"The loneliness?" Puck repeats, kind of confused.

"You know, the feeling that you're all alone in the world. That nobody listens or really _sees_ you. Or actually cares about you," Sam further explains, tears back to burning behind his eyes.

Puck could feel the atmosphere around them changing, Sam's sadness infiltrating their warm air. He sucks in his bottom lip again and lets out a deep breath through his nose. Puck doesn't really know what to say about all this. Like said before, he normally doesn't do feelings, and this thing bothering his best friend revolved around _a lot_ of that. So, he decided to do the thing he was best at, the physical-thing.

He grabbed one of Sam's nervous hands, still playing with the string, and squeezed it. He knows he should've felt weird about doing so, but he secretly didn't.

"It's okay," he softly says, and he can see that Sam's slowly calming down.

That night Puck can't sleep, even though he really wants to, because fuck, it's nearly morning. There are just too many thoughts racing through his mind and he isn't used to that. Hell, he never thought about _anything_.

But somehow his friendship with Sam had changed that and he couldn't quite put his finger on it, it just had. It was almost the same feeling when Quinn had told him she was pregnant and he had found it kind of logical that he had started to change by that. That was the confusing part, because with Sam he didn't feel like there had happened some kind of life-changing development. At least not for him.

Puck turned his head towards his best friend, who was sleeping calmly, his knees pulled against his stomach and his hands near his gigantic mouth. The boy with the Mohawk didn't know why, but he felt that the corners of his mouth wanted to pull upwards. Puck noticed how he wanted to touch him, but refused himself. Of course Sam was his bro, but putting an arm around him or something like that without a reason felt kind of inappropriate. Friends didn't do that with each other; he had never done it with Finn.

Puck turned his gaze to the ceiling again, sighing deeply while giving in to the thoughts in his head. Some of them were full of guilt, because he hadn't done anything sooner to help Sam. He should've figured out there was something terribly wrong long before and not find him on the edge, literally. Puck really wanted to believe that he hadn't known about Sam's well-being, or actually his not-well-being, but something inside him knew better. The last couple of weeks being around Sam had confused him so fucking much, that he had probably absentmindedly blinded himself from it, trying to keep a safe distance between them.

But why was Sam confusing him so much? He had friendly wrestles with Finn all the time and that didn't put him off, but doing with Sam it did. He always had the back of his main men, but feeling that way about Sam was creeping him out. He had helped Finn with his Rachel-dramas for like, forever, but helping Sam was different. And he didn't know why. He didn't get why he had felt the need to take Sam's hand _two_ times, but when their fingers interlocked so perfectly, it had felt so right. And what was up with the hug he gave him when Sam had told him he is gay? What was that feeling spreading around his chest, seeming to warm every inch of his entire body?

But when Puck looked at the scars on Sam's arm, he was sure of one thing. All that stuff, all that confusion, all those questions, they didn't matter. His main goal now was helping his best friend. The person he had grown so fond of in these past few months. The person he had told the whole extravaganza with his dad to. The person that apparently meant so much to him, that he would do anything in this whole fucked-up world to make him feel happy again, that he would forget about himself for once.

Puck grabbed the sheets again and turned on his side.

Yes, the only thing that mattered from now on was helping Sam. Puck had beginning to think that Sam seemed to get calmer when he felt Puck's touch. So that's why the Mohawked boy put his one hand on his again, covering the back of it, his fingertips nearly touching Sam's plump lips. He laid his other down on the boy's arm, partly keeping himself from seeing the physical pain his friend had caused himself.

And Puck fell asleep; secure, powerful and feeling as manly as always.

A couple of hours later he woke up, lights of the sun irritatingly stinging his eyes. He yawned loudly and noticed the feeling of a warm, and surprisingly soft, body under the touch of his hands. Sam had grabbed his hand in his sleep and was now holding it like there was no tomorrow and Puck's other hand had slide from his arm to his stomach. Puck softly pulled his hands away, releasing his fingers from Sam's tight grip, blood rushing through them again.

A minute later Sam started to turn and stretch his body, immediately opening his eyes widely as he did so, grabbing his back and shoulders.

"Fuck, my back hurts," he scraped his throat, "and my mouth tastes like something has died inside of it."

"Yup, almost killing yourself and alcohol are a real bitch," Puck responded lightly, his brain not picking up on the fact he sounded like an asshole.

Apparently Sam's mind woke up quicker than his, because he gave him an hurtful look.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Puck sighs, annoyed with himself. This surely wasn't the right kick off for his new intentions.

"It's okay," Sam accepts his apology, trying to sit up, but his muscles were apparently aching too much.

"I can't even go to school today like this," he mutters, sounding kind of helpless.

"School? Are you serious?" Puck asked him, a weird look displaying on his face, "after what happened last night, we're not going, I had already decided that."

"Why not?"

"Well, Sam, why do you fucking think? You nearly jumped off a lamppost last night, trying to commit suicide – but luckily didn't – and after that you've told me how miserable you are. So yeah, school's kind of the last thing we are going to worry about," Puck explains, almost sounding as arrogant as Santana, when she was stating the obvious.

Sam gave him a look he couldn't quite channel, so he got up from the bed, walking downstairs. After making a cup of coffee for himself and filling a glass of water for Sam, he returned to the bedroom, finding his friend in the same position as when he left.

"Does your back really hurt that much?" Puck asks, surprised by the fact that Sam apparently hadn't been exaggerating.

"And my shoulders," he responds irritated, trying to rub the muscles in his neck.

"Lay down on your stomach," Puck sighs abruptly.

"Why?"

"I'm giving you a massage."

Sam gazed up at him surprisingly and Puck instantly started to feel awkward. No, no, he didn't had to feel that way. Sam was his friend, his best friend, who already knew everything about him.

"Can you do that properly?"

"Dude," Puck exclaimed, a little disappointed by Sam questioning his skills, "I massaged Quinn all the time when she was pregnant, it gained me quite the experience. Now get ready for the healing hands of the Puckasaurus."

"Don't you mean claws?"

"Shut up."

Sam pulled his t-shirt over his head and got himself comfortable, his head resting sideways on a pillow. Puck set himself on his knees beside him and laid his hands on Sam's back, the skin tensing under his cold touch.

He softly started rubbing between Sam's shoulder blades, all the way up to his neck while slowly putting more pressure on it, all the way down his back, near the waistband of his sweatpants. He saw Sam's face wringing because of the pain sometimes. When Puck slid his hands up to the top of Sam's smooth back again, he felt a couple of knots. The palms of his hands started making circles around it, trying to get them to loosen up a little. He heard a soft moan escaping Sam's mouth and winces when he feels a little tingle in his lower body. Trying to not get put off by it, he goes back to concentrating on relaxing Sam's tight muscles.

But hell, did Sam really had to lick his lips while he was? And why the fuck did he had to moan like that? And why was Sam's body so soft? And what was the reason that Puck, nevertheless, didn't want to stop what he was doing? And why did he had that really good feeling down his…

Damn it! How the fuck did _that_ happen? What the hell?

He instantly pulled away from Sam, forcing him back to reality.

"Do you feel better, dude?" he asked after quickly putting the sheets over his waist.

Sam sat up from his laying position and rolled his head and shoulders.

"Much better," he sounded a little surprised, "you really are good at that!"

Puck was mentally kicking himself in the face when he felt the red rushing to his cheeks again. Why the hell did this happen to him? And how? What the actual fuck?

Don't think about it, remember, what you feel isn't important anymore, only Sam's condition is.

"Told ya," he responds, trying to keep his cool.

"Can you hand me my laptop?" Sam asked him after stretching his body one more time.

"Sure," Puck answered, grabbing the thing from his desk, unplugging the adapter. He handed it over and let himself fall on the bed beside Sam, secretly looking with him at the screen. It showed a conversation on Skype. Puck noticed Sean's name and instantly felt a shot of anger rushing through his veins.

But wait, had he read that right? Something about Sam's boxers?

"What was that conversation with Sean about?" he therefore asks, trying to keep the mistrusting tone in his voice from shining though.

"Nothing," Sam muttered, sounding slightly indifferent.

But if Puck had learned something about this whole shit with Sam, it was that when he said 'nothing' it meant there was something going on. That was why Puck suddenly pulled the laptop out of his hands and walked towards the chair, which was standing by his bureau.

"Puck! Don't!" Sam exclaimed helplessly.

But Puck ignored him, quickly searching for the conversation history in Sam's documents. Ah, there it was. His eyes hovered over the lines, the anger inside his body growing with reading every word of it.

"Sam," he began calmly, after finishing reading, "what have you done?"

He looked intently at the boy on the bed, who was now embarrassedly looking away, which irritated Puck even more.

"Answer me, Sam!" he almost shouted, "what the hell did he talk you into?"

"I know, it was stupid…" Sam began, his voice barely audible, "but I only showed myself in my boxers, not what was… Underneath it…"

"The hell I hope not!" Puck set the laptop down and walked back towards the bed again, "fuck, Sam, have you even considered the things he could've done if you did? He could use it as blackmail material or worse, persuading you into doing more stuff in front of that stupid webcam."

Puck can see that his best friend had gotten smaller by every word he had spoken and he felt the familiar guilt creeping up his body again, but refused to give into it. Sam had to know how fucking stupid he had been.

"That's it, you're never speaking to that guy again," Puck ended the conversation, after a moment of ice cold silence.

"Wait!" Sam suddenly blurted, "I know what you think, but I want to talk to him one more time…"

"Why would you want that?"

Because, despite of what he said yesterday, he has been really helpful and patient with me. He doesn't deserve me suddenly never speaking to him again."

Puck's mouth almost fell down wide open at hearing that. Sam had really gone crazy.

"Are you fucking blind?" he shouts, "you don't owe that guy anything. He has been nothing but a jerk to you."

"And who are you to judge? You don't know half the things I spoke to him about."

"Stuff you couldn't tell me?"

Sam gazed away again.

"Because, you see Sam, if you had actually taken a chance with me, you would have known that I would be there for you. But you didn't. You chose to confide in that asshole and he gave you the most crappy advice _ever_," Puck was now pointing towards Sam's arm for the second time in less than twelve hours, who swiftly hid it under the sheets. The tears in his eyes telling Puck he had said too much about the whole subject.

But fuck that, it was the truth, and he would be damned if he hadn't thrown it in Sam's face. Someone had to do it anyway, it was the only option to get the boy back to being normal again. The first step on this road to recovery was for Sam to acknowledge the mistakes he had been making. And for Puck it was understanding him and trying to not preach about it to him like he was his fucking dad.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't apologize," Sam reacts, "you're right. I've been a fool."

"Yes, you were," Puck snorted, giving a shot at putting some more humor into the conversation, "but I get it when you say you don't want to cut off the connection you have with him."

Sam looked back up at Puck, giving him a crooked smile.

"Thanks, Puck."

"But I wanna know what you guys talk about when you do. I don't want him giving you any more shitty advice!"

"That's fine," Puck felt violated when Sam chuckled at his protective attitude.

"Good, because if he does that one more time, I'll kick his ass."

The rest of the day they spent inside of Sam's house, playing video games and doing the random stuff they always did together. Last night and this morning had been intense enough for the both of them, so Puck had decided it would be best to let things rest for a while, besides Sam´s body that still hurt of the fall. But Puck's mind kept on thinking of ways to help Sam.

They had been separated that day for just half an hour, because Puck had went home in the afternoon, telling his mom he had been staying over at the Evans residence and telling her he would be for the next three days and luckily she hadn't gave him a hard time. He picked up some clothes and bathroom-supplies to keep himself from turning to look like a homeless person.

That evening they had ordered some pizzas and Sam had convinced Puck into watching Avatar, for the fourth time in their friendship.

"Let's go upstairs, dude," Puck immediately offered when the credits kicked in, "I'm tired."

"Well, I'm not!" Sam exclaimed, "let's go play some Halo."

"No, man, let's just call it a night."

"Please? I'll promise I won't be too hard on you this time."

Puck knew it was only one of the many ways Sam had to trigger Puck's competitive side, but the boy with the Mohawk was smarter than that. He really wanted to go to sleep, considering he had been more awake than at rest for the last forty-eight hours.

"Sleep tight," he said therefore, walking towards the staircase.

He heard Sam sigh and slowly dawdling to follow him. Upstairs, Puck had gotten rid of the clothes he had worn for the past two days and slipped into his sweatpants.

"Just one game, you coward."

Puck scowled at Sam, who was obviously trying to provoke him one more time.

"Stop being such a little bitch about it," he grumbled, "I'm already told you I'm drained."

"Coward."

"Shut up."

"Coward."

"Sam…" Puck threatened.

"Coward."

"Okay, that's it."

Puck stood up from the bed and grabbed the boy, who had also changed into his sleeping clothes, picked him up and put him on his spot on the bed.

"Nighty night," he teased him, quickly pulling the blankets up to Sam's chin.

"I don't wanna go to sleep," Sam muttered, letting Puck think he was trying to keep the baby-thing alive.

"And why is that, Sammy?" Puck asked in a low voice.

"I'll get the nightmares again…"

"Nightmares?"

Puck's mind flashed back to this morning; so that's why Sam was holding his hand so tightly.

"I've been having them every time when the voice in my head hadn't had the chance to taunt me at day," Sam explained, his voice soft en vulnerable.

"So, you're saying that today your mind's been at ease for the whole time?" Puck suddenly felt a little proud, but didn't know why.

"Yup, it's actually kind of funny, because it always is when I'm around you."

Puck saw Sam gazing away and felt that fucking awkwardness kicking in around them for the second time. But wait, there was more, he also got that warm feeling inside of his ribcage again. For a moment he focused on the nice heath, not realizing that it had caused a long silence.

"I think my head scares me even more at night," Puck suddenly got pulled back on earth again by Sam's whisper.

"Why's that?" he asks, slightly intrigued by the fact how open Sam's being.

"Because I've got no control of it when I'm asleep…"

"Maybe that's also a good thing,"' Puck suggests while thinking about it, "'cause, when you're awake, you do the wrong things to take a hold of control."

Jesus Christ, maybe he has to go the psychological way after he graduates high school.

"That's true, but, and I know it sounds wrong if I say this, it was something, you know."

Puck nodded, understanding where Sam was coming from. It must suck so bad to not have a grip on yourself and the only thing you think that can save you is hurting yourself, but it was time for change and he will do anything in his power to help the dorky boy.

"Well, I don't wanna be hard on you, but get used to the fact of losing your securities, because you need to start finding something else to hold onto."

Puck got up to turn off the light in Sam's bedroom, the darkness instantly falling around them like a safe blanket.

"I know," his friend lets out a deep breath, his voice slightly trembling, "I'm just scared."

Puck doesn't really know what to say that, because telling Sam that he shouldn't be sounded stupid. Time to turn this thing into something he felt he was good at.

"C'me here," he therefore says, pulling Sam closer to him.

"Puck, you really don't have to do-"

"Shut up."

Puck locked his arms around the boy, a hand brushing through the blond hair, almost forcing Sam to lay his forehead onto his bare chest.

"Seriously, if this feels uncomfortable you shouldn't…"

"It doesn't."

"But I'm gay, and you're straight…"

"I don't care, you know that."

"But doesn't this make you feel weird?"

"It will if you won't stop talking about it like it is."

Puck felt Sam's warm breath against his skin. He puts one leg around Sam's, really wanting to make him feel safe. Puck felt nice, being there for Sam, the band between them grew stronger and he liked the idea of that. He would never do this kind of stuff with Finn, because, let's be real, it would have looked crazy. But with Sam he didn't bother, everything felt okay and right, because Sam needed him. It was something Puck could conceal behind without thinking of himself as weak or gay.

"Thanks, Puck," he hears Sam whisper after a while, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"It's okay," the Mohawked boy responds simply.

At night Puck had woke up several times; Sam was mumbling shit in his sleep and even though it wasn't much, it was enough to alert Puck. It was around half past four in the morning when he heard him again, a cold wind teasing his body and noticing Sam had stole all the sheets. He was clanging them hard around himself and Puck pulled a couple of times to recover some of them back, but failed miserably. He sighed deeply, a stinging ache behind his eyes because of the sleep.

Sam was saying something again and, to make matters worse, turned swiftly, hitting Puck straight in the face with the back of his head. Puck grumbled and got up, leaning on his elbows.

"Sam!" he hissed, kind of annoyed.

But the blond didn't seem even close to waking up, instead he shouted 'no' one more time and kicked Puck's leg.

"Okay, that's it," Puck groaned out loud.

He got up from the bed, walked downstairs and set himself on the couch. He really needed his sleep and even though he felt bad for leaving Sam with, probably, his nightmare, he was determined to get it.

He woke up early that morning – he had forgotten to pull down the shades in the living room, so when the sun had come up it wasn't the most pleasant first meeting of the day with it. He rolled himself off the sofa, surprised by the fact he hadn't been cold on it.

Two cups of black coffee later he had already gotten bored, so he decided to see if Sam had awoken yet – and if he hadn't, Puck would probably make him, because the moron had kept him out of his sleep the entire night. A perfect example of 'if I'm going down, you're going down with me'. He walked up the stairs and opened Sam's bedroom door.

His whole body shocked at what he was witnessing when he came in. Sam was sitting straight up in his bed, his legs pulled up to his chest, arms locked around them and Puck noticed the pair of scissors in one of his hands. He instantly collided into the boy, roughly taking them from him.

"Sam! What the fuck are you doing?" he exclaimed, still a little dazzled.

Sam had looked up surprised when he had felt someone grabbing the sharp object from his hand. Puck could see his eyes were red, probably because he had been crying. What the hell had gotten him this upset? If it were because of the nightmares, then they should really be worse than Puck had expected.

"I'm sorry…" Sam sobbed, "when I woke up this morning and you weren't here… I thought you had left, because of the whole cuddling-thing… And then the voice…"

"Jesus Christ, Sam, you could've went downstairs first to look for me, or at least call my name," Puck raged, mad that his friend had given in to his moment of weakness, "let me see your arm."

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed it. The cut didn't look too bad, or at least he had seen them more awfully.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, absentmindedly gazing in front of him again, embarrassedly covering his arm under the sheets, away from Puck's eyes.

Puck knew this wasn't the way he should be treating him now, so he tried to get his temper down. When he felt his body calm, he tried talking to Sam again.

"Okay," he said it more to himself then to Sam, "how are you feeling now? Is your mind still racing with thoughts?"

Sam shook his head quickly.

"Can you take a moment to look at me and listen to me, then?" Puck asked, sitting down on the bed beside Sam, who had turned his head towards him and wiped the tears off his face.

Puck looked into his eyes intently, really wanting to get the message across.

"Look, Sam, I know this whole thing is really hard for you," he started sympathetically, "but you need to get real now. If you really want to beat this shit, you need to stay strong. I'm here for you to help however I can, but in the end, you need to do it yourself."

Sam nodded understanding, sometimes narrowing his eyes a little.

"Because I can't be here for you all the time. These four days I am, because you're home alone and stuff, but for example; we can't skip school forever," it almost sounded ironically, that coming out of _his_ mouth, "and, like I said, this battle is in _your_ head, so it's _your_ fight. I need you to start working on feeling confident and stable again. Try to find thoughts on which you can hold onto, thoughts that will keep that voice out of your head."

He poked Sam's forehead with his index finger, which resulted in a small grin showing on the boy's face.

"You can call, text or come to me anytime of the day, but you have to promise me to stop using this," he held the scissors in front of Sam's eyes, which showed a flash of guilt when he did.

"Do you get what I'm saying?"

Sam hummed affirmatively.

"Good. Now, one last thing, and I really want you to remember this," Puck started finishing his speech, "I will never leave you without saying anything and I will never feel awkward about comforting you."

Sam now beamed his great smile at him again and Puck felt proud of himself. Maybe he was better at this talking and feeling crap than he had given himself credit for.

"You're awesome, Puck," Sam smiled gratefully at him.

"I know," Puck acted indifferent, Sam chuckled.

"No, but seriously, you've really helped me."

"Apparently not enough though," Puck responded, denoting towards Sam's arm. "I still feel like I suck at these kind of things."

"You don't, you really don't."

"Can I ask you some stuff, just for some reassurance?" Puck hesitated a moment, but he really wanted to know the following things.

"Of course."

"Are you satisfied with our conversation, yesterday night?"

"Yes."

"Am I being sympathetic enough?"

"Yeah, dude! You can be a little harsh at times, but that's also a good thing. It keeps my feet on the ground."

Puck grinned a little, one last question still burning on the tip of his tongue.

"Can you give me some tips on how to comfort you?" he felt weird asking, "you know, like, how can I make you feel safe and secure and stuff…"

Puck was glad it was finally out, but he could see Sam doubting his answer to his question.

"Okay, don't start thinking things," Puck noticed Sam stuttering a little, "but I really like it when you touch me…"

Sam's head instantly looked like a tomato and Puck had to fight himself to withhold his laughter. It wasn't because of Sam's honesty, but he found it so amusing when Sam was acting that shyly around him when it involved him being gay in just the slightest of ways.

"Please, don't think weirdly about me now," Sam pleaded when the silence continued.

"Dude! We're fine!" Puck allowed himself to laugh now, "I perfectly understand I'm, literally, your rock and I really don't mind if you want a hug or something like that."

Sam looked at him bluntly.

"But you said it was a onetime thing…"

"I know, I know, at that time it was kind of new for me too, that's why, but I'm perfectly okay with it now," Puck smiled confidently at him, the thought of him and Sam now being able to touch each other without being scared of what the other might think made his head cloud with fuzziness.

Fuzziness? Seriously, Puck? Get over yourself.

Sam was looking like a puppy that just got treat from his owner and stretched out his arms towards Puck, who laughed out loud and jumped on the boy. After their hug starting to poke his sides and tickling him. When he heard Sam squeak a couple of times he felt like he was a kid again, but it actually felt nice, because children didn't have to worry about anything and that was just the feeling they had both craved for the past few days.


	5. Chapter 5 Sam

**Hmmm, I guess you guys like my Sam better than my Puck, looking at the views. ;p**

**Anyway, I'm sorry for not updating for a while. I've been busy loads of other stuff, so I didn't have the time or the energy to put something down.**

**Nevertheless, please keep reviewing and**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter five<em> – Sam

It was Saturday morning and a week had passed by. Puck had somehow managed to get a bottle of Jack Daniels and Sam had replaced it in the liquor cabinet so that his dad wouldn't find out. His parents had gotten home and Sam was kind of happy that they were back, because Puck had to turn home, but that wouldn't mean that the house would be silent again.

He sat on his bed, over thinking the past week. The only thing that had really bothered him was Sean and deep down he knew he shouldn't care or even think about the guy, but truth was, he did. What Sean had asked him to do was totally inappropriate and wrong, but Sam somehow understood where Sean was coming from. He was just another guy with feelings, so why would Sam be upset about him acting on them? Maybe he should just give Sean another chance, considering Sam had gained one from him once before, Sam sort of owed Sean and avoiding him was rude.

Impressed by how he was evaluating the situation so easily, he grabbed his laptop from his desk and logged onto Skype. Sam saw Sean wasn't online and he instantly felt a little sad.

But then he saw a little white box near Sean's name. He curiously clicked on it and his previous conversation with him was shown. Apparently Sean had sent him some kind of offline-message, which Sam wasn't even familiar with the option. His emerald eyes read down the lines.

_Sam,_

_I'm so sorry for asking you to do that thing for me. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or insecure about anything, especially not about yourself. I just thought it couldn't harm and figured we were just messing around. I hope you'll be able to forgive me and that I'll hear from you soon, because I miss you, Sam._

_Still like you,_

_Sean._

Sam kept reading those last three words over and over again, a tingle going through his body. It felt nice that someone cared for him the way Sean did. He really was patient with him and, just like Puck nowadays, really took the time to make him feel better.

But "still like you"… What was that supposed to mean? Did Sean mean he was still the same as Sam? Or was he just being friendly and meant nothing with it at all? Or did he actually like Sam, as in the boyfriend-kind-of-way? That thought made Sam's mind twirl and he decided to respond to Sean's message, telling him he wanted to talk. Not just about what had happened with the webcam, but to be honest about everything. Yes, it was about time he and Sean cleared the air about where they were standing – if they were standing anywhere at all – and, just hypothetically, if Sean actually did like him the webcam-thing wouldn't bother him anymore. Because then it would be something that boyfriends do, right? But don't rush things, Sammy, he told himself.

It didn't take much time to reflect his own feelings about Sean. Obviously he liked to guy, sometimes he even thought that he really was falling in love, but it felt weird admitting that, because he had still never actually _seen_ him.

But he really shouldn't get ahead of himself. Maybe Sean just liked him as a friend. Fuck, that would be disappointing. The voice in Sam's head woke up immediately, telling him all sorts of depressing things. Sam's eyes went to his arm, his trembling hand touching the pale scars.

Damn it, he had been doing so well the past few days that it would be such a shame if he had a fallback now, but the voice soon had him on the edge of hurting himself again. It frustrated Sam so much, now discovering that he would probably never get rid it of the urge entirely. Never. Never. The word echoed in his mind. For the rest of his life, all those years ahead of him, he was forced to constantly fight for his health and if that was true… Then why shouldn't he put an end to all of it right now? Everything seemed like a time bomb anyway. He just had to slip one time, like that night on the football field, and his constant battling would turn worthless.

Sam felt himself starting to panic, his breathing getting heavier and his hands starting to sweat. He yanked his phone out of his pocked and quickly started typing a text message.

_It's happening again._

He pressed on Puck's name and thirty seconds later his phone gave a light buzz.

_I'll be right over._

Normally Sam would have said he shouldn't, because he didn't want Puck to feel obligated, but when he was with him last week, Sam had to make some promises towards Puck. One of them was to always be honest when Puck asked him if he was doing okay and another one was that he should let Puck know every time he felt the need to give in to his weird habit, even when he wasn't with him.

But despite Sam had repeated those sentences and swore he would follow them, he still felt a little guilt. Mostly because he couldn't offer something in return, except for making him feel awkward when he would give in to his impulse of hugging him every time Puck had made him feel better. Sam didn't knew why, but he had come to learn that he felt really nice and safe when he felt Puck's body warmth against his skin. Sam guessed Puck had picked up on that too, because he would embrace him a lot more often nowadays.

Fifteen minutes later Sam heard the bell rang downstairs, quick footsteps in the hallway and then his bedroom door swung open. Sam glared into Puck's concerned, hazel eyes and immediately started apologizing, his guilt taking over.

"I'm sorry for…"

"Shut up," Puck interrupted him briefly, kneeling before him and taking both of his hands. Sam saw his eyes check his arms for cuts.

"You didn't do it?" he then asked, sounding a little hopeful.

Sam shook his head, his hands folding back into his lap again.

"Dude, that's great!" Puck smiled happily, jumping on the bed next to Sam and grabbing him into a hug. Sam let his arms by side, not wanting to make Puck feel uncomfortable.

"What's wrong, man?" the boy with the Mohawk asked, "is it just me, or are you acting distant?"

"I just thought about our recent way of… Going about one another and decided I don't want to screw up our friendship."

Puck frowned at him, giving him a weird look.

"That's the voice in your head speaking, Sam," he responded, "you know I don't care."

"Yeah, that's the thing, you don't care. You don't like it, you just… Don't, don't like it either," Sam sighed deeply.

A moment of silence fell between them in where Sam could feel the awkwardness creep into the atmosphere around them again.

"It makes you feel good, right?" Puck asked, his voice a little lower than it was earlier.

Sam shrugged.

"I really shouldn't answer that."

"It does, doesn't it?"

"I… It's just… I like boys and you don't…"

"Shut up."

Sam let out a deep breath, his head turning towards Puck, who had a playful angry look on his face.

"We're fine, bro!" he then laughed, pulling Sam near him again, his back resting against the headboard.

Sam tried to let go of his insecurity and rested his head on Puck's chest.

"Now tell me the reason you texted me," Puck softly demanded.

"I saw that Sean had wrote me a message on Skype today," Sam felt Puck's hand, which was slowly rubbing his shoulder, pause.

"What did it say?" he asked.

"That he's sorry for what happened, that he hopes that I'll forgive him…"

"That's good,"

"…And that he likes me."

"He what?" Puck did his best to turn his head down, so that he could look into Sam's eyes.

"Yeah… I don't know how though…" he dumbly responded.

"Well, how do you think?"

Sam felt Puck's body get tense, but ignored it.

"I said I want to talk to him and decided that I'm gonna ask him to be open about his feelings. If he does, I'll be about mine."

"What're your feelings?" Puck scraped his throat.

"I like him too. I just don't know for sure if it's love or something like that, because I've never actually met him," Sam explained.

He could feel Puck nod, because his chin was softly brushing against his head every second. Silence fell around them again, but Sam didn't know why. It surely wasn't an awkward one, more like they were done talking. Puck apparently didn't know what to say anymore. Sam knew Puck was still bad with handling feelings, even though he had improved slightly, and Sam was okay with that. He already was satisfied with the fact that Puck wouldn't freak out when they were this close.

"Thanks for coming over," he whispered after a while.

"No problem, you know that," Puck responded, poking Sam's side.

Sam shocked when Puck's hand hit a sensitive spot and beamed a bright smile.

"You got any plans for the day?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Wanna grab coffee at the Lima Bean?"

The rest of the day they spent hanging out around the mall, eating pizza and playing videogames at Puck's. It was around evening, after dinner, that Puck suddenly paused their bloody shooting game and gazed at Sam thoughtfully.

"I think you should tell your parents."

Sam gave him a weird and disgusted look.

"Dude, are you insane? They'll freak out if they find out I tried to… Kill myself," Sam stuttered shockingly.

"I was talking about your sexuality, you dork, of course you shouldn't tell 'm that. You would only hurt them by doing so and you're already getting better anyway," Puck explained.

"Not gonna happen," Sam responded abruptly, turning his head back to their game and pressing 'start' again.

Puck sighed irritated, pausing their game again. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sam had continued to play. Before they knew it, they were having a childish fight, with a lot of interaction with their thumbs, which Puck ended by yanking the controller out of Sam's hands.

"Hey!" the blond exclaimed.

"Shut up," Puck demanded, "now go home and tell them."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Sam."

"I'm not going to, Puck, let it go!" he now almost yelled, "why are you pushing me?"

"Because I think you need to do this as your next step to recovery," Puck sighed, "face it, Sam. You'll have to tell them eventually, so why not do it now?"

"Because," Sam sucked in his bottom lip, "it would kill me if they would reject me."

"But you'll never know if you don't try," Puck responded, "and you know you got… Err… Depressed, because you found out you're gay."

Hearing that last word still made Sam feel weird about himself. It sounded so surreal, a stamp that obviously made him different from every other person.

He knew Puck was right about telling his family though. Like he said, he had to come clean one day, so why not do it tonight? The nerves started creeping through his body as he imagined telling his parents. He would never get the words out of his mouth.

"How will I tell them, though?" he gave Puck a questioning look, "I really can't do it while facing them."

"Text them," Puck answered after a while, considering the options.

"Isn't that kind of impersonal?"

"No, it's perfect," Sam could see Puck's face lighting up. A plan was probably developing in his mind. "You're gonna text them, then they can have some time to take in the information and by the time you'll get home, they have had some space to discuss it and you guys can then talk about it."

Sam thought about it for a while. It actually seemed like a surprisingly good idea, taking in mind it had come from the 'Puckasaurus'.

"Take a chance, Sam," Puck encouraged him further, "I'll be right here to support you."

Sam watched as Puck laid a hand on his knee, squeezing it. He let out a deep breath, searching for his phone in his pocket. He typed a message and decided to send it to his mom; she would probably tell his dad right away anyway.

The message was sent and Sam hold his breath, while Puck's thumb caressed his kneecap. They didn't speak until Sam's phone gave a light buzzing sound. He looked at his best friend, fear portraying in his eyes. The boy with the Mohawk still didn't say a word, he just gave him a light nod, gazing confidently at him. Sam unlocked the screen on his phone, tapping on the new message.

_Come home, right now._

He felt all the color disappearing from his face, his eyes already starting to sting. Puck scooted closer to him, quickly reading the message over his shoulder. Sam just gazed at it, not knowing what to think. Were they mad? Were they fine with it?

"Sam, it's gonna be okay," he suddenly heard Puck's caring voice on the background.

But Sam knew he was just saying that, because Puck couldn't possibly know that. He shook his head softly.

"I have to go," he said, standing up.

"You can come back over here if you want to. I'll stay up all night if I have to," Puck assured him.

A little smile managed to creep onto Sam's face.

"Thanks Puck, that's… Sweet."

When he got outside he walked to his car. The voice in his head had already begun taking over his mind. He sighed deeply while accelerating, trying to numb his feelings. There wasn't anything he could do about it now, so he just decided to see how things would go at home.

He pulled into the driveway and took one last moment asserting the many thoughts in his head. He got out of his car and opened the front door, walking into a quiet hallway. He dropped his jacket under the coat rack and entered the living room. He saw his parents sitting down on the couch, holding each other's hand, an awkward silence surrounding them. Sam immediately felt like he was going to suffocate under the pressure, a shot of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

"Hi," his voice cracked a little.

"Sit down, son," Dwight Evans, his father, instructed him.

Sam nodded, taking a seat on the chair, opposite of his parents. He studied their faces, but couldn't channel any of the looks they were giving him.

His father inhaled deeply.

"For how long have you know?" he asked.

"For over a year," Sam answered, his voice barely audible.

"And you're sure about this?" his mother joined in on the starting conversation.

"Yes, I am," Sam responded, trying to sound confident.

He knew his parents were religious, Christians, not very strict ones, but they were. They've went to church several times when he was younger, but Sam had always felt like he didn't quite fit there; ironically. When he had told his parents that, at the age of ten, they were surprisingly cool with it and didn't force it on him. But despite that, Sam knew their background was probably going to prevent them now from understanding him. He stared down at his lap, his fingers quietly fumbling with each other.

"Well, Samuel, you know what the Bible tells us about… People feeling the way you do…" fuck, here it was, "but we actually don't care about that."

Sam looked up, surprised by his father's words.

"Wh-what?" he stumbled.

"We're going to be honest with you, son," Dwight continued, "we're really going to need some time to get used to this, but we accept it."

"Your happiness is all that matters to us, Sammy," his mother, Mary, added.

The blond couldn't believe what he was hearing, refusing the desire to pinch himself to see if it wasn't a dream.

"Th-thanks," he stuttered, still shocked.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked her son worryingly.

"Nothing, mom, everything's great," Sam beamed a smile at her, "I just hadn't expect you being okay with it."

"Well, why not?" his father exclaimed resentful, "we know perfectly well what year we're living in, Samuel, and we're going along with it."

Sam chuckled a little at his father's response.

"Are we the only ones you've told yet?" his mother asked after a while.

"No, Puck knows, too," Sam answered honestly.

"And how did he react?"

"He's fine with it. I would almost say more than fine."

"Is he also…" his dad suggested.

"Oh my… Dad! No, he's not!" Sam started laughing.

Mary sighed deeply and gave her husband a judging look.

"What?" Dwight responded on that, "I just figured…"

"But besides Puck, no one knows?" his mother asked after her son's laughter had died down.

"Nope. I still have to get used to it myself, sometimes," Sam answered truthfully, images of himself grabbing the scissors out of his desk drawer flashing before his eyes, "Puck's actually the one who encouraged me to tell you guys."

"Really now?" his mom seemed pleased.

"Yeah, I should probably text him everything's okay," Sam reminded himself.

"Oh, Samuel, don't be so impolite," Mary interrupted him, "go back over to him."

Sam frowned at his mom's proposition, but gladly took it.

"Don't you wanna talk some more?" he still asked reassuringly.

"Nah, that's okay," his mother answered, "we'll have plenty of other moments to talk, just make sure you tell Puck that we are very grateful for being such a good friend towards you."

"Sure, I will," Sam nodded, "thanks, mom, dad."

"It's nothing," Dwight responded, "like we already said; your happiness comes first with us."

Sam almost couldn't take a hold of himself, quickly driving back to Puck's house, trying to drive safely. When he pulled up the street he saw Puck sitting on the porch, holding his phone with both hands. Sam looked at the Mohawked boy exhaling a sigh of relief when he noticed his car.

"How did it go?" he instantly asked when Sam got out, walking up to him.

"They're fine with it," Sam beamed.

"Really? Fuck, Sam, that's great!" Puck exclaimed, yanking him into a hug.

Sam started laughing uncontrollably, his body releasing of all the tension that he had felt for the past hour. He felt Puck's strong arms around his waist and locked his around his neck in a response.

"I told you everything would turn out alright," Puck smiled, his head on his shoulder.

"Yeah…" Sam closed his eyes as he felt a tingling going through his rib cage.

After a few moments of just quietly enjoying his happy feeling, he felt Puck loosening his grip.

"Tell me everything," the boy with the Mohawk insisted.

They sat down on the wooden bench in front of Puck's house, not bothering the chilly wind, sweeping across their faces. Sam told every detail of the talk he had with his parents.

"Oh, and I should tell you that my parents are really thankful," he finished his story, "they think you've been a great friend towards me."

Puck's smile got even bigger hearing that.

"Tell them it's nothing," he said.

"No, Puck," Sam shook his head, "it isn't. You have truly been an awesome friend ."

"Well, I just care about my main man," Puck laughed, sneaking a hand up his lemon-colored hair, messing with it.

"And I care about you," Sam smiled, playfully smacking Puck's hand off his head.

After this brand-new, life-changing development, Sam gained more confidence with the day. At home, dinner seemed to have become the new Evans' family time. His mother would put down three mugs of tea when they'd finished eating and they would just talk about their days. And about Sam's feelings of course. The blond had never even thought about how easy and fun it could be to just chit-chat about his personal stuff with them.

He also had a nice conversation with Sean the night before. His chat partner had apologized one last time for his behavior, which had rewarded him with winning some of Sam's trust back. He had also admitted that he had feelings for Sam, and not just friendly feelings, but like, loving feelings.

Yes, Sam Evans had felt insanely happy the past few days. It really seemed like his life had finally took a turn on things and he couldn't be grateful enough for that.

It was Thursday evening and he had just sat down behind his laptop. The talk with his parents about boys he found attractive still fresh in his mind.

_Hey Sam, how are you?_

Sam smiled at reading Sean's name above the message on Skype.

_I'm fine! Perfectly fine! You?_

_Wow, that's good to hear. Why are you this excited? I'm okay._

_Well, you know, everything's looking up._

A thought popped up in Sam's head. Would he dare asking it? He stared at his keyboard, considering whether or not to.

_That's great! Hey, uhm, I was thinking… Are you free this Saturday?_

Sam gave a surprised look at his screen, was Sean being one step ahead of him?

_Yeah, I guess I am._

_Would you like to meet up? I don't know, go to the park or something?_

Sam felt his heart shooting into his throat. He quickly reached for his phone in his pocket, texting Puck he was about to say yes to a date with Sean.

_Sure, I'd like that._

_Awesome! Should we say at 1pm?_

_Fine by me._

He heard his phone buzz against the wood. He picked It up from his desk, reading the message Puck had sent back to him. Like Sam had expected, he insisted on going with him. Sam didn't need long to think about that, considering Puck knew about the pain Sean had caused him one time.

_Is it okay if Puck comes with us?_

He started nervously tapping his foot on the floor, a little scared Sean might react angrily.

_Does he have to?_

Sam sighed, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

_Yes. I don't wanna lie to him, Sean. I promise I'll make him leave after an hour or something, so that we will have plenty of time to be alone._

_Okay… But only if he lets us be and doesn't stay with us all afternoon. I want to go on a date with you, not with him._

A date. Sean called their meet up a date. He felt like his head had caught on fire.

_Sure!_

"Stop acting like a twelve year-old girl!" Puck exclaimed annoyed.

"I'm just nervous! I don't even know what he looks like, you know!" Sam muttered.

They stood by the pond, the place where Sam and Sean had decided to meet. They were fifteen minutes early, because Sam had been so hyperactive that his room had really gotten too small for the both of them, quoting Puck's words. They had taken Puck's car, because the boy with the Mohawk had demanded he would bring him home after.

"Don't chew your lip."

"Sorry…"

Sam had really put all out this morning; taking half an hour to shower, another one at deciding what to wear and he was pretty sure he had grown a vagina by the time he finished doing his hair.

"Stop jumping from one leg to the other."

"Let me be."

Sam gazed around the park. It was quiet, probably because most people still found it a little cold to chill outside yet. Though, the sun sometimes came out to warm up their faces and the trees around them seemed to block out most of the wind.

"What do you think he'll look like?"

"I don't know, Sam," Puck let out another sigh, "I guess like a twenty-six year-old pervert that can't wait to touch you."

"Puck," Sam responded warningly, "you promised you'd be supportive and non-judgmental."

"I know, sorry."

Sam should've asked why Puck was being this rude, but suddenly noticed a man coming their way. He had dark hair, cut short and was wearing average clothing. Sam felt his muscles tense as the guy approached them, giving them a short wave.

"Hey Sam," he spoke, pointing out his hand.

"Noah Puckerman, nice to meet you, _sir_," Puck immediately jumped in, shaking Sean's hand. Sam could see his knuckles turning white.

"Well, aren't you polite," Sean smiled at him, his eyes narrowing down a little.

For a moment it looked like they had completely forgotten about Sam, because they were most likely having a staring contest.

"Hey Sean," Sam smiled nevertheless, pinching Puck's upper arm, who on his turn yanked it back, his free hand starting to rub himself.

"How are you?" the man asked, "nervous?"

"Not at all," he saw Puck shooting him a weird look from the corners of his eyes, "you?"

"Nah, I've had internet dates before."

"I bet you have," Sam heard Puck scraping his throat. He gave him an angry look and Puck rolled his eyes in response.

"You wanna go somewhere or…?" Sam tried to break the tension.

"I don't mind. We could just talk a little right here. You know, trying to get some more relaxed."

Sam was glad he knew Sean was actually talking to him, because if he didn't, Sean's staring at Puck would have put him off.

"Fine by me," he affirmed, Puck just shrugged.

"So, tell us a little about yourself," the boy with Mohawk offered when he sat down.

"Well, I don't think I have to, Sam already knows everything."

"Believe me, I know, I meant for me. After all, I'm the one you've to convince in the next hour or I won't leave."

"Puck, shut up," Sam hissed.

"Well, it's true, isn't it? I'm determining."

"Puck, I swear to God if you don't-"

"It's okay, Sam," Sean interrupted their bickering, "I get it. Puck's just being protective of you."

Puck gave Sean a look like he didn't believe him and when Sam let himself fall to the ground to groan, Sean wiggled his eyebrows arrogantly, shooting a wink at Puck.

"Why you son of a-"

"Alright, that's it!" Sam cut him off, getting himself up from the grass, "Puck, if you're not planning on giving Sean a chance to get to know him, then you might as well leave."

Puck gave his friend a shocked look, but Sam gazed at him, hardness showing in his eyes.

"Fine," Puck gave in.

"How are things at home, Sam?" Sean turned his head to him again.

Sam shot him a grateful look, glad that he was trying to get passed the tense air around the three of them.

"Great, really great," he answered, "me and my parents talk almost every evening now and they're really cool with me being into guys and all."

"I'm happy to hear that," Sean smiled at him, which made Sam's heart almost melt.

"So you haven't harmed yourself, lately?"

Sam noticed Puck frown.

"What kind of question is that?" he blurted.

"Just ignore him," Sam quickly responded, not paying any attention to his best friend, "and nope, I haven't."

"I approve," Sean nodded, a weird look on his face. Sam chuckled at him for using a sentence he always used on their chat.

"Oh, for the love of God," Puck whined, slamming his own forehead.

Three awkward silences and seven angry looks towards Puck later, it was time for his friend to go. He said goodbye, hugging Sam tightly – as if they did that all the time – and having another stare-down with Sean.

The rest of the day Sam spent on the exact same spot in the park. Sean had some good stories and somehow managed to make him laugh every somewhat minutes. He had touched Sam's knee and hand sometimes, but Sam was feeling too scared to actually respond. Because who knew, it might turn into something more and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

The closest they had been that day was when it was time to get home for dinner. Sean had hugged him and Sam had briefly rested his head against his chest. He noticed he wasn't as muscular as Puck, but it still felt nice. When they had loosen their grip, Sean looked straight into his eyes and Sam could have sworn his head was getting closer to his, but before he could be sure he had already turned around. He waved Sean goodbye, telling him he had fun and that they would talk again soon.

When Sam got to the parking lot he texted Puck to come pick him up. Moments later he saw his truck pulling up and Sam opened the door to get in, letting out a deep breath as he sat himself down on the passenger seat.

"O my God," he exclaimed.

"Had that much fun?" Puck asked shortly.

"He's amazing. Like, really amazing. He's kind and sweet and funny and good-looking and he said this thing…" he trailed off.

"Did you guys kiss?" Puck asked after a while.

"No, we haven't," Sam noticed his friend hadn't given him a single look since he got in the car.

"Are you okay?" he asked therefore.

"I'm fine," Puck gave him a weird look, "hey, Blaine's throwing a party tomorrow night, you wanna go?"

"On a Sunday?"

"We've got the Monday after off, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he had totally forgotten about that because he had been so excited for his date with Sean today.

"So, you wanna go?" Puck repeated his question.

"I don't know…" Sam didn't feel like partying. It would be the first one in a long time, though, but he didn't trust himself anymore around alcohol.

"Why not?" Puck scowled, "dude, we deserve this. You deserve this, after all the crap you've been through the past few months."

Sam nodded slowly.

"Please, just go with me, I've even convinced my mom into letting you stay over," Puck insisted.

"Fine, I'll go," Sam gave in, watching as Puck gained a big smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6 Puck

__**Here's another chapter. Thank you for all your lovely reviews and please don't forget to keep it up!**

**Enjoy!**

_Chapter six_ – Puck

* * *

><p>Noah Puckerman was sincerely happy that his best friend was doing better, except for one small thing: it seemed that he had fallen for the biggest pervert in the entire world, but didn't see that. Puck had seriously clenched his fists the whole time yesterday. He just knew Sean had some disgusting, hidden agenda and he would be damned if he wouldn't use everything in his power to prevent Sam from falling in love with him.<p>

Yes, the Puckasaurus was jealous. But it wasn't because he wanted Sam to fall in love with him, 'cause he didn't. He wasn't gay. That yarning in his stomach was probably because his mom was a terrible cook, not because he had butterflies or whatever people called it. He looked at himself in the mirror, satisfied with his outfit. He was totally ready to get shitfaced and to just have an awful lot of fun. The doorbell sounded and he ran downstairs.

"I got it, mom, it's probably Sam," he yelled, going down the hallway.

He opened the door and looked into the green eyes of his best friend, his heart making a little jump. Shit, his mom's food really was going to kill him one day.

"Hey Puck," Sam greeted him smiling.

"Dude, you're late," Puck responded, playfully giving a look at his watch, "kidding, just drop your stuff in my room so we can go, okay?"

Sam nodded after punching his shoulder. When he got downstairs again Puck rolled his eyes, because he insisted to say hi to his mom first.

"Sam! How are you?" he heard her exclaiming excitingly from the living room.

"I'm great, Ms. Puckerman, how are you?"

"Good. I'm fine, thank you. So, how's school?"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," Puck blurted annoyed, yanking Sam to the front door, "gotta go mom, see you tomorrow!"

He slammed the door shut as he started walking down the street.

"Aren't we going by car?" he heard Sam ask.

"Blaine lives just three blocks away, you moron," Puck answered, putting his hands down his pockets.

"Oh, okay."

"Have you spoken to Sean already?" the boy with the Mohawk asked after a while, trying to sound interested. Maybe Sam had finally realized Sean wasn't the right kind of guy for him.

"Last night, actually," the street lights illuminated his pale face and Puck could see him blushing lightly.

"That's soon," Puck responded, clenching his jaw.

Yupp, he was getting loaded tonight.

A few silent minutes later they had reached Blaine's house. Puck sent his fellow Glee Club member a message, telling him they were at his door. He could already hear the music bouncing through the walls, so he didn't even bother knocking.

"Hey guys, come in!" Blaine welcomed them after opening up for them.

Sam and Puck took off their jackets, dumping them on the stairs before them.

"The liquor is on the table, feel free to get some, toilet's down the hallway and upstairs is off limits," Blaine instructed them nicely.

"Thanks, Blaine, you're awesome," Sam smiled at him.

"Yeah, thanks Hobbit," Puck patted his shoulder.

He looked around the room. The whole New Direction cast was present, as for The Warblers and some other people he didn't knew. He turned back to Sam.

"I'll grab us some drinks and meet you at the garden, okay?" Puck offered.

Sam nodded affirmatively before the boy with the Mohawk walked over to the table. He was just mixing some stuff up when Quinn got in his line of sight.

"Hey Puck," she greeted him shyly.

"Quinn," Puck responded suspiciously, he was still convinced the girl had lost her mind.

"I wanted to apologize for how I acted lately," she caught him off guard.

"Oh, well, that's okay."

"I really am, Puck. I don't know what had gotten into me," she insisted.

"It's fine, Quinn, I'm happy to see you're doing better."

"Thanks," the blonde girl responded, "well, I'm going to see if I can get Brittany and Santana to stop making out with each other. Talk to you later?"

"Later."

Puck walked through the sliding door, still a little surprised by Quinn's sudden change of heart, entering the garden. Blaine had put up a tent with some heaters underneath it. He gazed along the many people and noticed Sam sitting down in a corner. It seemed like he was having an intense talk with Blaine and Kurt, considering they had a sympathetic look on their face.

"What's going on?" he asked, handing Sam one of the red cups he was holding.

"I just told Blaine and Kurt I'm into guys," Sam explained briefly.

Puck almost choked on his drink, starting to cough heavily.

"You what?"

"It's okay, Puck," Kurt jumped in, rolling his eyes, "Blaine and I can keep a secret."

"Well, I hope so," the Mohawked boy responded.

"We will," Blaine reassured him, looking him straight in the eye.

"Thanks," Puck nodded, still not sure if he could trust the gays.

"No, thank you for being so protective of me," Sam said, "it can be a pain in the ass sometimes, referring to yesterday, but I'm really grateful, Puck."

The hazel eyed boy looked down at his best friend, noticing how cutely his blond bangs had fallen into his eyes again. Fuck, why the hell did he think that. He quickly took another chug of his drink.

"It's nothing," he waved Sam's compliment away, messing up his hair so that Sam would break their gaze.

"You two are actually surprisingly cute together," Kurt suddenly stated, Blaine gave him a shocked look.

"And we're done drinking," he quickly jumped in, taking away Kurt's cup and walking inside again.

"Hey! Blaine!" his boyfriend exclaimed, a little too dramatically if you asked Puck.

After Kurt had also left, the boy sat down on his spot, turning to Sam.

"Are you really okay with telling them?" he searched his face for an answer, "or were you just being impulsive?"

"No, Puck, how could you even think that!" Sam chuckled, "I figured since my parents are okay with it, I should slowly start on telling more people."

Puck smiled at him, emptying his cup, but still wasn't really convinced. He knew his friend was good at faking.

"That's great, Sam," suddenly noticing he had not yet taken a single sip from the drink Puck had so awesomely put together, "now drink that up! It's getting warm!"

Sam started laughing at him and Puck shot him a hurtful look.

"I'm actually not drinking tonight, honestly," Sam explained, "I think it's good if I lay off the alcohol for a little while longer."

The image of Sam standing on top of the light mast and watching him fall down flashed through Puck's mind.

"Not bad, Evans," he smiled, "maybe you're finally getting wise."

"Shut up," Sam scoffed at him.

The rest of the night Puck spent dancing and chatting with random people. And taking a shitload of drinks. He didn't care, he had deserved this. For months he had felt bad most of the time and he was happy he could finally let it all out a little. It wasn't like he bothered helping Sam, hell, he was one of the most important persons in his life right now, but it had seriously drained him.

After his somewhat shot of tequila he suddenly felt the urge to hug someone. He searched around the room for his best friend, because he was the only one who wouldn't get pissed at him for doing so, but couldn't find him. He walked towards the garden, his vision wildly jumping up and down. Nope, not in the garden. He scratched the back of his head, feeling himself starting to worry. He grabbed his phone from his pocket.

_Where r u?_ he managed to type.

_Upstairs, bathroom_ read the reply.

Puck sighed deeply, stumbling to the hallway. He almost tripped over the jackets that were lying on the stairs. When he reached the top, he narrowed his eyes to look for the door that had a lock on it. When he found it he yanked it open.

"Freeze! You are off limits!" he shouted, his hands formed into a pistol.

"You're an idiot, someone ever told you that?" Sam chuckled, splashing some water onto his face.

"Shush, Evans, I come in peace."

Sam dried off his face with a towel and turned to him, one hand resting on the sink.

"Why were you looking for me anyway?" He asked.

"Hug!" Puck suddenly exclaimed, throwing his arms around the boy.

"Holy shit," Sam blurted, catching him.

"I like you, Sammyboy," he nuzzled his face into his friend's neck.

He really did. He really liked Sam. As a friend, of course.

"I like you too, Puck."

Why two deaf birds talking to each other on a stick. There was that nice heath spreading around his rib cage again. He quickly let go of Sam, sliding a hand through his Mohawk, put off by it.

"What's wrong?" Sam instantly asked concerned.

"Nuthin'," Puck responded.

All of a sudden he felt himself falling backwards, but realized it a little too late to stop it. He felt Sam grabbing his hand and giving him a yank forward again. Puck's one foot stepped on the other and his upper body fell against his friend again. He could see Sam's blurry face right in front of him, only inches away. He smelled his cologne and noticed the different dyes of green in his eyes. He felt his soft skin under his hands, cupping his cheek and slowly pulling him closer to him. He didn't know why, but he did knew he wanted to. He felt Sam's plump lips brushing against his, before pressing right into them. He closed his eyes as he was suddenly sobering up entirely, opening his mouth a little. When the tip of his tongue touched Sam's a shiver went up his spine. He could feel Sam's hands grabbing the back of his shirt as he felt a sweet taste tingling his senses. The fingers on his free hand started to play with the ends of Sam's hair.

It took a moment before he realized his friend had pulled himself back away from him. He opened his eyes and saw his face full of embarrassment and guilt. He wanted to say something, but Sam was faster.

"I… I've gotta go," the boy muttered, swiftly moving past him.

Puck heard him running down the stairs and hold still for a moment. It seemed that all the alcohol had left his body as he stared into nothingness. What the hell just happened?

He made a thin line of his lips, still tasting Sam on them. Fuck, why did he do that? It didn't bother him that they had kissed, it meant nothing to him, but maybe to Sam it did. What if he couldn't deal with it? What if… What if he would hurt himself again…?

Puck quickly turned around and almost jumped downstairs. When he got into the living room he saw Sam talking with Kurt, a red cup in his hand. Shit, he was probably planning on getting drunk now. He walked up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"You wouldn't drink, remember?" he whispered into his ear.

"Fuck off, Puck," Sam hissed back to him.

Puck hadn't realized he had stayed upstairs long enough for Sam to have probably already taken enough drinks; his breath was screaming alcohol.

"Fine."

The boy with the Mohawk turned on his heel. Sam was staying over at his place anyway, so he decided to just keep an eye on him for the rest of the night. The boy sure didn't want to talk to him, so it seemed like the only option.

Puck didn't drink for the rest of night. He felt obligated to take care of Sam and him getting drunk again wouldn't do any good. He was surprised he didn't feel disgusted or something like that by the kiss they had shared. It actually felt nice, but that wasn't something weird. As a teenager everything physical felt good, so yeah, it wouldn't suddenly make him gay if he would admit that feeling Sam's lips against his was utterly amazing. Not that he would admit that. Ever.

He had sat down on the couch. The house was slowly emptying and Puck watched Sam happily taking shots with Kurt. He felt a thud next to him and looked into Blaine's friendly eyes.

"It seems like they're having fun, huh?" the boy with the curly hair stated.

"Yup," Puck sighed, "are you sober too?"

"Totally. I knew Kurt was going all out tonight, so I figured one of us should watch the house," Blaine chuckled a little.

"That's nice of you," Puck complimented, surprised by his own kindness.

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta do it," Blaine shrugged, "just like you're watching Sam, no?"

Puck nodded silently, watching as Sam started poking Kurt's sides teasingly.

"What the hell are they doing?" Blaine started laughing, pointing towards them.

"My sign to get Sam home," Puck responded, standing up from the couch and walking towards them, Blaine on his heels.

"We're leaving," he demanded, grabbing Sam's arm tightly and pulling him to the hallway.

"But I don't wanna go!" Sam cried out.

"Well, you're staying over at my place, so you kinda have no choice."

"Okay," Sam sighed deeply, for the last time waving to Kurt.

Puck searched for their jackets on the floor, leaving Sam hugging the wall.

A couple of minutes later he found them and handed Sam his one. The boy didn't bother putting it on, but just walked straight out of the front door. Puck followed him quickly, catching up on him on the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry I kissed you," he heard Sam breaking their silence after a while, almost tripping over his own feet. Puck swiftly sneaked an arm around his waist, holding him steady.

"It wasn't you fault," he sighed, "we both didn't refuse."

"You liked it?" Sam chuckled.

Puck felt his body tense.

"I didn't mind," he answered truthfully.

"You hate me, don't you?" Sam's appearance suddenly turned sad and Puck knew the voice in his head was guilty of that.

"No, I don't."

"You do, I can hear it in the way you speak."

Puck stopped moving although they just needed to walk down one more block. He turned Sam around.

"Well, what do you expect, Sam?" he tried to control his anger, "You took the highroad after it happened and I can watch you beat yourself up for it the rest of the night and it wasn't even your mistake!"

"I'm sorry!" Puck could see Sam's eyes starting to water, "I always fuck up."

Puck sighed deeply, how the hell was he supposed to respond to that? He heard Sam staring to sob.

"I'm a failure. Worthless. I knew it was just a matter of time for you to see that, too."

"Let's just go home," Puck said, "it's cold."

When he had managed to put Sam down on a chair in the kitchen, making sure he wouldn't fall down from it, he started grabbing stuff from the cabinets.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked softly.

"Sobering you up," Puck answered, "when you drink as often and much as I do, you come to learn a few things."

The boy with the Mohawk knew perfectly well that it wasn't possible to get alcohol out of someone's system, but that you could sober up their mind a little. He put on a cup of coffee, grabbed some aspirin and filled a glass of water.

"Here, take this," he handed it over to Sam.

His friend laid the white pill down on his tongue and chugged the glass of water. Puck filled up another one and gave it back to him again.

Two more glasses and a cup of coffee later he could already see Sam getting back down to earth.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Not as happy as at Blaine's," Sam answered, gazing at his lap.

"Good. Let's get upstairs."

He felt a little proud when he noticed Sam only stumbled once while getting up. When they got into his room Puck instantly started undressing himself. He fell down onto his bed in just his boxer briefs and pulled the sheets half over him, a hand rubbing his forehead.

"I'm really sorry, Puck," he heard Sam apologize again, "I feel awful about it."

"Sam, I already told you, it's okay," Puck repeated.

He watched Sam getting into a fight with his shirt, but finally managed to pull it over his head. Puck secretly checked his arms, like he always did, and shocked when he thought he saw something. Sam had taken of his jeans and sat down on the bed again. Puck immediately got up and grabbed his left hand. He turned his arm and looked at the wound.

"Sam…" he sighed disappointed.

"I… I felt like I needed to punish myself," his friend started sobbing and even in the dark Puck could see tears rolling down his face.

"You should have come to me," Puck said.

"I… I..." Sam's sobbing prevented him from speaking, "I couldn't…"

"You always can," Puck responded.

"No, b-because of the k-k-kiss… I… I was ashamed," his crying now filled the room fully and Puck figured they were done talking for now.

He grabbed Sam's shrugging shoulders, pulling him down against him. He felt his chest getting wet because of his tears, his damp forehead into his neck.

Alcohol really strengthened one's emotions.

"Shush, it's okay, it's okay," he started petting his hair, his other hand rubbing his back.

"I'm never getting rid of this, am I?" Sam asked through his sobs.

Puck didn't knew what to say to that. It was a thought that had also haunted his own mind lately. He really wanted to tell Sam he would, but he couldn't, because he wasn't sure. He heard Sam's breathing getting faster.

"Sam, relax," he demanded, scared the boy would start hyperventilating, "I got you. I'm not mad at you. You're safe."

He felt him starting to shake, but his slamming heartbeat was getting down. Puck pulled the sheets over them and kept rubbing his back as he felt Sam growing calmer.

"We're fine, Sammyboy. We're fine."

The following morning Puck was the first one to wake up. At fucking seven a.m., awesome. Luckily, he didn't have a hangover from last night. He tilted his head up to look over at Sam and noticed that he was still sleeping. He had his arm around his waist as he started thinking about how nice it actually made him feel; having his best friend curled up against him. Then the image of the kiss from last night flashed before his eyes. He had to admit, it felt good, but also a little weird, but like, good weird. He sighed deeply. He shouldn't think about this. He had made a vow to himself to help Sam however he could and that meant he shouldn't get involved with emotions he didn't understand the meaning of. The most important thing was that he knew how to comfort his best friend and it didn't have to care that that way was physically.

His gaze turned to Sam's arm, instantly getting that nauseous feeling in his stomach when his trembling fingers hovered over the wound. The bitter question from last night infiltrating his mind. If he had to be honest, he did think Sam was never going to fully recover from his depression. His mind could turn so easily on him and Puck thought it wasn't something you block out that simply.

But despite that, he did think Sam could grow stronger. They just had to find a way to accomplish that. They needed time and as long as Puck was there, they had all the time they needed, because he would make sure that his best friend wasn't going anywhere.

His body shocked in surprise when he felt Sam moving and turning to face him. He smiled at seeing how peaceful he looked, glad that he apparently wasn't having his occasional nightmares. He started to stare at his plump lips, unaware of licking his own. Maybe he could kiss them just one more time… Just to make sure how he felt… He moved his head a few inches forward, already feeling Sam's soft breathing onto his face. One quick one… No. He couldn't. If he woke up it would probably only upset him and he might start hurting himself again. Puck wasn't able to live with himself if he was the reason for Sam doing that again. He pulled away, brushing the blond bangs to one side.

"Sammy… I feel so much for you…"

You could easily say that the next couple of times that Puck and Sam saw each other things were awkward between them. Sam still felt a little guilty for kissing Puck and Puck still didn't know what to make out of it.

On one quiet Thursday afternoon, Puck had just come home from yet again another boring day at school, he sat upstairs, looking things up about depression on the internet.

"Puck! I'm gonna go grocery shopping!" his mother shouted from downstairs.

"Okay!" Puck yelled back, letting her know he had heard her.

He heard the front door open and closing again. Two minutes later, the doorbell rang. Puck sighed annoyed. His mother had probably forgotten her keys. Bluntly to that fact that it could be anyone who might be standing in front of his house, he opened the door. He shocked when he noticed a familiar, but not so pleasant, person before him.

"Sean…" he greeted him, suspicion shining through his voice. How the hell did he know where Puck lived?

"Puck," he responded abruptly.

"What do you want?" the boy with the Mohawk put up his guard.

"I'm here to tell you nicely to stay out of Sam's life," the guy demanded.

Puck gave him a weird look.

"And why's that?" he snorted at him.

"He's mine, Puck," Sean looked hard into his eyes, "Sam told me you guys kissed last week. Who the fuck do you think you are, taking that away from me? I mean, you're not even gay."

"What do you mean 'taking that away'?" Puck asked, a little confused.

"I should've been the one to grant him his first kiss with a guy," Sean stated indifferently, "I already have him wrapped around my finger and I don't need you interfering."

"What the fuck, dude?" Puck only managed to shoot back, realizing that he had, indeed, been the first guy Sam ever kissed.

"Listen carefully to me, shitface," Sean came closer, "he is mine. I'm gonna pop his fucking cherry and take all of that cute little innocence away. He already looks up to me and screwing him is the last thing I need to fully make him mine."

Puck looked at him with disgust.

"Are you fucking insane?" he exclaimed, "Sam's never gonna do that with you. He's got enough shit to deal with already and you're only going to make it worse."

Sean started laughing out loud at him, right in his face.

"You really don't get it, do you?" he scowled, "he needs to get worse. That's how I'll make him mine."

Puck's mind just couldn't grasp on what he was hearing.

"Tell you what," Sean continued, getting close to his ear, whispering, "I'm going to make sure he'll hurt the fuck out of himself. I'm going to break him down to the fullest and when even you can't handle his fucked up mind anymore, I'm gonna jump in. And he's going to hold on to me. That's the moment when I will have all control on him."

"You're sick…"

Sean chuckled.

"And you know what the best part is?" he ended, "you won't be able to not tell him this. Which will start a fight between you, because, let's be real, Sam's never going to believe you. And that will be the moment when I'm gonna make him even more miserable, push him to the edge, just like that time on that lamppost, and then I'm gonna save him. Gaining all his trust."

The guy pulled away, a devious grin on his face.

Puck opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He didn't know what to do, except for punching the shit out of Sean, but if he would then his plan was going to work out. He balled his fists, clenched his jaw as frustration build up in his body, realizing there was nothing he could do.

"So, anyway, thanks you Puck, in advance. Thank you for pushing Sam's hot little ass right into my arms," Sean turned on his heel, walking away, leaving Puck bluntly.


	7. Chapter 7 Sam

**I'm sorry for this chapter being a little on the short side, but it has to be for the story. It's just that Puck's side of it is getting more interesting to the storyline, because the roles are about to get reversed. But you know what? I shouldn't give away too much of the fun. So why don't you forget to review and**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Chapter seven<em> – Sam

"You're telling me you didn't feel anything?"

"Nope."

"Nothing? Not even a little spark or a twitch in your stomach?"

Sam didn't mean to start a fight about it; he was just confused. After the night of Blaine's party they hadn't spoken a word about what happened and it was eating him away. Not with guilt, though, which he found actually surprising. Not that it was at all fun to discover that he had started to get certain feelings for his best friend. Yes, his best friend, the person who had always been there for him lately, his rock.

Why was he saying those things again? Things were going great between him and Sean, they've had two more dates and everything felt right, so why did he feel like he was on the edge of crushing on Puck?

"I'm sorry, Sam, nothing. I'm not gay."

Like he hadn't thought about that.

"Well, you don't have to be gay to like kissing guys."

Shut up, Sam, you're only making things worse. Why do you even bother? Get over yourself.

"I know," Puck let out a deep sigh and for a split second Sam thought he could see a slight hesitation in his hazel eyes, "but… I'm not."

"I know you aren't," Sam exhaled.

"Why are you making a such a big deal out of it, anyway? I thought we were past this?" the boy with the Mohawk asked.

Sam's body tensed at the question. Yup, he should've seen that one coming. Good job, Sam, you're doing very well at the moment.

"I-I… It's just…err…" stop stuttering, you moron, "I thought we…err…should at least t-talk about it…"

"Why are you being awkward?" it seemed that Puck could see right through him, taking some steps towards him

"I'm not, why-"

"Sam."

Quick! Think of something!

"Sammy, do you…like me? Just answer me."

"Never, you're not my type and besides, you're a fuck-up."

Oh my, you are on fire today! Sam instantly slammed his hands for his gigantic mouth, shutting it firmly. He could see Puck's face grimacing with a weird look and…was that hurt?

"I'm sor-"

"Is that so? Do you think I'm a fuck-up?" Puck responded, his voice rising, "because if you do, than screw you. I've been an awful good friend to you. Hell, your _best_ friend."

"Puck, I didn't mean to-"

"But you know what? Fine, if you don't need me anymore, I might as well leave," he turned on his heel, attempting to walk out of Sam's bedroom.

Sam sucked in his bottom lip and shook his head. How did he always manage to make things worse for himself? It was his fucking mind. His brain that had his own way of thinking and making him do stuff he honestly didn't want to. Absentmindedly, his eyes went to his desk drawer, hesitating for a moment, but then realizing that he hadn't heard a slam of the door yet. He turned around and saw that Puck was still in the room, his hand on the doorknob.

"I'm sorry…" Sam broke the silence with his whisper.

"Yeah," Puck responded briefly, "I know I've made mistakes, you don't have to point that out."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Sam had now walked up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, "it's okay."

"No, Sam, it is _not_ okay!" Puck suddenly almost shouted, yanking himself around and starting to walk up and down the room.

Sam could see him bawling his fists and clenching his jaw, knowing it was something his best friend did when he was getting frustrated. And frustration was his biggest enemy, almost the same as depression was for Sam.

"Calm down, it's my fault, not yours, I shouldn't have said that," he tried again.

"It's neither our fault," Puck hissed through his teeth.

"Then whose is?"

The room was filled by a frustrated groan, coming from Puck's mouth. His hands were on the sides of his head and Sam just felt blunt.

"What's going on? Why are you being so upset?"

"I can't tell you."

"You can tell me anything," Sam pushed.

Puck closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to get his temper down. It was something he had learned himself to do when he was getting worked up about something. Sure, the corrosive ache in his muscles wouldn't go away, but at least he could postpone it for a while.

"Okay, look, just trust me," he said, now gazing directly into Sam's eyes, "I can't, but don't worry. It's not you, it's not me."

"Why don't you just talk-"

"Sam."

The blond shut his mouth, examining the carpet underneath his feet. Great, now his friendship with the most caring person in his life was ruined. All because he made that stupid statement of which he didn't even what the reason was for it.

"I'm gonna go," Puck suddenly said, "we'll talk tomorrow."

Sam just nodded, starting to feel numb again.

"If something comes up, don't hesitate texting me, alright?" Puck had laid both his hands on Sam's shoulders while trying to lock eyes with him, but Sam refused.

"Right."

"Good… Bye…" Puck gave him a quick hug and Sam leaned in for a short moment, finally followed by the sound of his door closing.

That night the racing thoughts didn't leave Sam's mind, but the boy knew now that he shouldn't give in to them. He sat behind his laptop, looking at his arm, which was still unharmed. He felt the corners of his mouth crooking up into a little satisfying smile, but his mind was telling him differently. He had to find something to make the voice in his head shut up again. He looked up when he heard a familiar sound coming from his speakers and he let out a relieved sigh. Sean had gotten online.

_Sean, I feel like hurting…_

_Hey Sam. What? Why? Did something happen?_

_Puck… I kinda called him a fuck-up… And then he wanted to leave, but didn't, got frustrated, then left._

Sam gazed at the screen, hoping that Sean could make him feel better.

_Oh… Well, you shouldn't have done that…_

_Tell me something new._

_But, why do you want to hurt yourself now? Like, punishment or something?_

Hmm, punishment… He hadn't even come up with that, he just felt like doing so, but punishment actually fell into place.

_Yeah, I guess… I just feel awful and I feel like I need it… Like I deserve it…_

He hated to admit it to himself, but he did. Just one time, one tiny little cut and he would feel normal again. It was so simple and he deserved it. He had hurt his best friend over nothing and now he should be too.

_You know, as long as it stays at one cut and not trying to kill yourself, I guess there's nothing wrong… I mean, so what, right? If you think about it in an objective way, what's the actual deal?_

Sam thought about it. Sean was right, what did it mean? It wasn't like he could go to jail for it or would die or something. He yanked his desk drawer open, grabbing the scissors out of it, feeling the cold metal against his skin.

_You're right, thanks, Sean._ He typed as a hot stinging pain went through his arm. He focused on it, almost being able to feel the depressing thoughts leaving his body along with the red liquid.

_Do you feel better now?_

_Yeah, I do…_

He dabbed the wound clean with a piece of toilet paper, not noticing that the little smile had vanished from his face.

_So, anyway, I was thinking… Do you have any plans for tomorrow afternoon?_

_What did you have in mind?_

The next day, before his fourth date with Sean, it was after football practice that Puck had noticed the relapse Sam had had yesterday.

"You should've texted me," he demanded when Sam walked out of the showers, a towel hugging his waist.

He looked up, probably just imagining that Puck was staring at his tight abs.

"It's okay, I talked to Sean," he responded lightly, hiding the face that Sean hadn't told him to not do it.

"I'm sure you did," Puck hissed, clenching his jaw.

"What's wrong? I've talked about it to someone, right? That was supposed to be a good thing."

"Did he tell you to do it?"

"No… I-I had a weak moment," he shut his eyes down again, knowing he was an awful liar around Puck.

"That's why you should have let me know, because than you wouldn't have done it," Puck shrugged indifferently, a tone in his voice like he was stating the obvious and in the back of his mind Sam knew he was.

"Well, I like Sean and he helps me, too," Sam responded, getting his jeans on, "just in a different way than you do."

Puck gave him a weird look.

"Who's better at it?"

"I-I… Neither of you. I can't compare you two," Sam answered.

"Oh come on," Puck snorted, "look at your arm, apparently I do a way better job."

"Yeah, but at least Sean never is a reason why I do those things," Sam heard himself say.

Oh no, not again…

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Puck asked, "are you saying you did _that_ because of me?"

"Nothing… I-"

"Do you know how much that hurts hearing you say that?" the boy with the mohawk continued, his eyes starting to water, "I've tried so hard to help you and now that Sean's in the picture I'm suddenly the reason for your depression? Because that's what you're implying. That I was the one who made you feel miserable, that I had awoken that voice in your head. Fuck, Sam, that's bullshit. You know how much I care for you, you're my best damn friend. I would take on the fucking world for you and you know it. I've even set my own feelings aside for you, just because I love you."

Sam's eyes shot up at that last sentence. Feelings? Love? What? He stared at him, Puck's face displaying shock, regret and the glistening of tears in the corners of his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8 Puck

**Here's another one! Yay! Thank you for your reviews and subscriptions, I'm loving it. Anyway, promise me you'll**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Chapter eight<em> – Puck

Of course Puck didn't question his sexuality, how could you even think that? He hadn't instantly turned gay, just because that one kiss with Sam felt weird and because he had begun to take a moment to admire his abs every now and then…or saying that he loved him. Hell, he was his main man so it was perfectly normal for a straight guy to feel or do that every once in a while...just as speaking out some affection. It was normal. He was normal. Straight. Not gay.

"What do you mean by that?"

"That I didn't think of myself when I was helping you and that I love you as the best friend that you are to me," damn Puck, congratulations, that was some quick thinking.

"Oh," Sam responded shortly, yanking his shirt over his head.

Ho, hold on for a moment. Was Sam upset by his explanation? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Holy shit. He had been right when he thought Sam liked him yesterday! For fuck sake. How could he have been so blind? Crap, crap, crap, Sam _liked_ him. Wait, why was there that weird feeling in his stomach? Shit, had he been eating weird stuff, again? No, no, he hadn't… But what the fuck was it then? Was it… Could it be… Oh fuck…

"I've gotta go," Puck blurted, convinced that he was going to suffocate if he stayed any longer with Sam in the locker room.

He didn't wait for a response, but immediately turned on his heel and walked out. Air. He needed air. Fresh air. And a drink. Yes, a drink. Fresh air and a drink. He walked down the parking lot, his gym bag occasionally patting his back because of his fast walking. He inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to calm down.

It didn't help. He was freaking out and he knew it. How could this have happened? It wasn't real. It couldn't be. He couldn't have feelings for his best friend. Not for a guy. Impossible. He didn't spin that way.

"Puck! Wait!" he knew it was Sam. He could even recognize his voice in the school's hallways when there were tons of people walking by. Could he do that with every one of his friends? Or was it because he apparently _loved_ Sam? Blah, gross. He reached his truck and threw his bag in the back.

"It's okay. I know you meant it in a friendly way!" he could feel Sam had caught up on him and was standing right behind him now.

"Leave me alone," Puck tried to push him away, getting into the driver's seat.

"Please… Don't… I…" Puck turned his head, immediately wanting to strangle himself because fuck, now he could see the hurt in Sam's eyes, "I need you…"

But the boy with the Mohawk was too confused to say anything back, so instead of telling Sam it would all be okay and that they would be friends forever like he should have done, he slammed his door shut and accelerated.

Puck drove around Lima for hours. He didn't feel like going home. He needed to talk to someone, because, let's face it, he was freaking out. Normally, he would have gone to Sam, but now he couldn't, because things weren't normal. He wouldn't have cared if Sam had a small crush on him or something, guys have liked him before, but the fact that he now probably knew where that weird feeling in his stomach came from… No. He was wrong. Noah Puckerman was straight.

But the more he said that to himself, the more it started to sound like a lie. It wouldn't even make sense, though, he has never liked a guy in his whole fucking life. He didn't get a boner from seeing two guys kiss and… Fuck, now he felt nauseous.

Suddenly, a deafening sound came from the sky as rain started to pour down on his windshield. A few minutes later, he parked along the sidewalk, not being able to see anymore. Lightning struck every somewhat seconds and the sky was dark and seemed to display a sickening green glow. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel. Why was he feeling this way? He was fucking normal! He wasn't like Sam or Kurt or Blaine. He couldn't be with a guy, it would be too weird. His frustration build up again, but now he also felt the need to just cry and later scratch his eyes out. He yanked his door open, stepping out in the rain. He threw his arms up to the sky, water falling down on his face, hiding his tears.

"What's happening to me?" he exclaimed as another bolt of bright yellow energy lit up the sky, the thunder immediately sounding after it.

"Fuck…" Puck whispered, looking around. Maybe he felt a little more secure when he knew where he was.

He gazed around the neighborhood, confused that he actually recognized the houses.

"Noah, what are you doing here? Out in the pouring rain?" he suddenly heard a familiar voice behind him. He rolled his eyes, irritated by the fact that the curly-haired boy in front of him had always referred to him by his real name.

"Come on, get inside," Blaine offered, already walking back to his house with the black umbrella over his head.

Puck hesitated for a moment, but figured it couldn't do any harm. He didn't want to go anywhere anyway. He followed him inside his home, now noticing how decent and cozy his living room actually was, totally different from the night with the party.

"Won't your parents mind?" Puck asked, not feeling like having to play all nice and polite.

"They're not here," Blaine answered, "father's on business and mother's having a nightshift at the hospital."

"Ah," the boy with the Mohawk responded, so that was the reason why Blaine lived in such a big house. Apparently, his parents were quite the moneymakers with their jobs.

"Come on, let's get you out of those clothes. You're soaked," Blaine said, already halfway the staircase.

Moments later Puck sat on the couch in Blaine's room, wearing one of his sweatpants and a sweater that just fit him. Blaine had told him it was his Sunday outfit, because it always was too big for him and he could nicely crawl away in it.

"What were you doing on that sidewalk, anyway?" Blaine asked, handing him a mug with damping hot coffee. He sat down beside him, his legs crossed hippy style.

"The rain was blocking my view, so I had to pull over," Puck shrugged indifferently.

"Still no explanation on why you were outside," Blaine shot back easily.

This was exactly the reason why he didn't hang out as much with the boy. His politeness, decent way of speaking and the fact that it always seemed like he could look right through to people annoyed Puck.

"I just wasn't feeling well," he tried to shake him off.

"Why not?"

"Stop asking."

Blaine kept gazing directly at him, even when Puck had decided that the black liquid in his cup had suddenly became very interesting. They didn't speak for a while, their silence only being broken by the rain that was ticking on the roof, along with some thunder every now and then.

"I hate thunderstorms," Blaine suddenly sighed, looking out the window.

Puck turned to look at him, feeling like he could breathe again when Blaine had stopped his staring at him.

"You scared, Anderson?" Puck scowled teasingly.

"Are you?" Blaine shot back, that knowing look on his face again. Puck knew they weren't talking about the storm anymore.

He chugged his coffee, standing up to walk over to the heater in Blaine's room, checking if his clothes were already dry.

"You know, I'm a pretty good listener, Noah," he heard the boy softly saying.

Puck closed his eyes and sighed.

"I…err…I think my friendship with Sam is getting too much…"

He turned around and sat down again.

"…And?" Blaine asked expectantly.

"Now I feel weird."

Silence fell around them again like a soft cloak. It reminded Puck of the silences he had with Sam; comfortable. He smiled at himself, not expecting that he would actually feel at ease around Blaine.

"You know, I once had a friend," the curly haired boy suddenly spoke, "it was because of him that I found out that I'm gay, I liked him. He was a great guy; caring, friendly and I just felt nice being around him. One day, we just finished watching a movie on his bed together – cheesy, I know –, I decided to tell him. We had known each other for six years and we always had the most in-depth conversations, so I knew that we were comfortable around each other enough for him to talk about it with me. He asked me how I felt around him and I explained."

Puck listened intently as Blaine stared down into nothingness, letting out a soft chuckle as his mind supposedly was back in the moment.

"He told me he felt the same way," he continued, "but that he had never liked any guys before, so that it probably had to be something else than 'love'. It got me to thinking and I didn't agree. We discussed it for hours and hours, getting into the early morning, and by the time the sun came up, I had my first official boyfriend."

Puck gave him a questioning look. "How? He wasn't gay, right?" he asked in an oblivious tone.

"True, he said he wasn't, because he wasn't comfortable with the label. But if he had to be completely honest and spoke his heart, he did like me. He wanted to be with me. We came to the conclusion that he simply fell in love with persons, not depending on the gender," Blaine had now turned his head to look up at his hazel eyes.

Puck slowly nodded thoughtfully. The story had hit him and he knew why Blaine was telling it to him. It was because of that skill of his that Puck hated so much that the polite boy simply knew. And Puck knew he knew.

"The rain has stopped," Blaine suddenly said, standing up and grabbing Puck's clothes.

And so Puck got in his truck again, pulling up on the suburban road, but instead of turning right towards his own house, he turned left. Blaine's voice kept repeating his story in his mind over and over again and Puck knew what to do. To hell with what everyone would think of him or what he was about to do to himself and his thriving ego. He had been a fool, a bigger one than usual, by denying the feelings he had gained from being with his best friend. He had ignored and locked them away in the back of his mind, because he was so determined on helping Sam, but now he realized. His little black box with confused emotions had burst open and had drifted up to the surface and it was about fucking time he dealt with them. The Puckasaurus wasn't scared of anything, so he would be damned if his feelings for Sam would terrify him.

But they did.

He pulled up Sam's driveway, turning off the snarling engine of his truck as he got out. He shot a quick look at his watch when he actually noticed it was already dark out. Nine thirty, in itself not too late to come over for a visit. He rang the bell and heard awkward footsteps coming to the door. Surprisingly enough, it was Sam who opened up.

"Puck…" he voiced startled.

"Hey, can I come in? We need to talk," the boy with the Mohawk responded determined.

"Yeah…sure," Sam answered bluntly, clearly he wasn't expecting his friend. The blond had figured after what happened after practice today that Puck would just go back to keeping his distance again.

Puck walked past him into the living room, ready to be a fine gentleman and greet Sam's parents, but they weren't there. He turned around and the blond explained that they already were upstairs, before he took a seat on the couch. Puck sat down in the chair opposite of him, not wanting to be too close to his friend with what he was about to confess to him, but it was Sam who took the first words in their conversation.

"Look, Puck, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier," he sighed, "I know we're just friends and I shouldn't have given you that weird look when you said that you…err…loved…me."

The mohawked boy shook his head, his hands rubbing his face while his elbows were resting on his knees. How the fuck was he supposed to do this?

"It's fine," he decided, "you weren't entirely wrong by doing that…"

Sam's brows furrowed as his appearance asked for an explanation.

"I…err…I think...," Jesus fucking Christ, Puck, get over yourself, you sound like a wimp, "I'm confused."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, still not entirely sure where this was going.

"I mean that I have all these…feelings…for you…that I can't place and…" come on, come on, "I've had them for a long time now, but always pushed them away. You know, because of your whole…"

He gestured to Sam's arm, who shot a quick glance and nodded silently, giving Puck the opportunity to elaborate.

"But they've caught up on me," Puck exhaled, "and I think I might like you."

It seemed like the world stood still for a moment as his own words rang in his ears. There it was, he had said it. Puck immediately felt exposed, like Sam's response would cut right through to his soul. He silently wished upon every God that he was going to be gentle with him, because fucking hell, he already had a hard time with it anyway. It was almost like his best friend could hear him thinking, because he chose his next words carefully.

"Okay…didn't see that one coming," he tried, chuckling softly to lighten the atmosphere that was hanging around them, "but you're fine. We're gonna sort this out, together."

Puck let out a relieved sigh and he could feel a weight lifting from his shoulders, time starting to tick again.

"Thanks, Sam," he said softly, glancing up at him.

"Dude, don't even mention it," his friend waved his gratitude away with his hand, "you've helped me the past few months, so I kinda owe ya."

Puck grinned at him.

"That's true, I guess."

Sam bit his bottom lip nervously. "So, tell me how you feel."

Puck first winced at that, giving him a weird look, _feelings_, but then remembered his conversation with Blaine and figured he should tell him.

"I don't know, I guess, comfortable?" he said in a questioning tone, using Blaine's words, "and…like I have this need to protect you." Oh, yes, yes, that was good, that was it. Puck felt himself gaining more confidence. "And I've noticed your smile a couple of times and, and the way you chew your lip, like you're doing right now, I find that funny!" He had jumped up from the chair now and started to walk excitingly through the room. He was on fire. "I like how much of a dork you can be, but still remain that coolness. I like how you smell, what cologne do you use by the way? It's really awesome. Oh! And I sorta got turned on when I massag-"

"Whoa! Okay!" Sam cut him off, lifting his hands in the air, "I think I got it."

Puck felt his cheeks reddening furiously and he mentally kicked himself for it.

"Anyway, what do I do now?" he asked, running a hand through his Mohawk, trying to calm down again.

"Well, we could go to the movies next Friday?" Sam offered, "The Avengers is out and I really wanna see it."

"You mean like a date?" Puck asked, a weird look on his face.

Sam chuckled. "It can be whatever you want it to be."

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><p>From that moment on, Puck had felt like he was in a whirlwind of emotions. He felt nervous, anxious, insecure and excited about the upcoming Friday night. They had agreed on that it would just be a casual movie night and not put the word 'date' on it, to keep themselves free from any awkwardness. They had been best friends for a long time now and despite Puck's new feelings, they didn't want that to change. Besides, the only thing Puck wanted to find out was if he really was attracted to Sam, or that he was just confusing their friendship for something else. Add the fact that Sean was still in Sam's picture and you'll realize that it really wasn't a date.<p>

But then, why did Puck put on his hottest set of clothes, had spent hours to get his Mohawk into perfect shape and had used his most expensive cologne…? He didn't want to answer that.

"Mom, I'm out, will be back late!" he said loudly, walking through the hallway.

"Where are you going?" he heard her ask bluntly.

"To the movies, with Sam!"

"And why-"

He quickly slammed the front door shut, escaping his mother's interrogation. He already had enough stuff on his mind and he worried that if she would ask too much, he might blurt out something he didn't want to admit.

He got into his truck, starting it and driving to Sam's house. He started wondered why he had changed so much over the past few months and in what way. But when he caught a glimpse of himself in his driving mirror, it hit him. The look in his eyes was softer, almost vulnerable, with a sense of reality in them. The Puckasaurus had been pushed to the background of his appearance and Noah had come out, all because of his caring for his best friend. It felt weird, but also a little nice. Noah was more energetic, probably because he didn't have to put on an act. He realized that the Puckasaurus was tired of his role playing game and had let his softer side take over.

When he pulled up to Sam's house, he saw that the blond was already waiting on the porch, waving cheerily at him. Puck felt a smile creeping up his face and got out.

"Hey, you rea-" he couldn't finish his sentence, because his mouth had dropped open, his eyes almost falling out of their caskets. Sam had stood up and was walking towards him, tight denim jeans hugging his waist, a plain white shirt which showed the outlines of his muscled upper-body, his arms and back covered in a black leather jacket.

"Of course I am!" Sam pulled him into a hug, "I've been excited to see this movie for days now."

Puck just stared at his huge smile, his lips looking appealingly soft, his green eyes sparkling, slightly covered by strands of blond. After a while the smile vanished, though, and his eyes turned to worrying.

"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to catch his gaze.

Puck shook his head. "Yeah, sure, of course, I'm great," a giggle escaped his mouth as Sam turned to take a seat in the passenger seat. Puck took a moment to face palm himself and settled behind the wheel.

For the whole drive Sam had leaded the conversation, excitedly rambling on about how awesome the movie probably would be, summing up what his liked about every character, while Puck tried to focus on what he was saying, not staring and trying to keep them on the road.

It was quiet at the cinema, or at least Puck had experienced busier days.

"Two tickets for The Avengers," Sam ordered, while Puck silently crossed his fingers on that it wouldn't be sold out, because the blond would probably grab the red-haired guy and drag him over the counter to punch him.

"Here you are, Hall seven."

"Thanks," his best friend responded, taking the tickets and grabbing his wallet to pay for them.

But Puck was a bit faster and he fiercely jammed his money in front of the guy. "I'm paying for them," he demanded, not wanting to feel like a girl when Sam would, which was stupid, because it obviously wasn't a date.

"I thought we agreed on that this wasn't a date?" Sam asked.

See.

"It's not."

"Then why are you paying for me?"

That's when Puck noticed the look on the face of the attendant, gazing at each of time with big eyes. Puck laughed it off awkwardly, grabbing his change quickly and walking off. He heard Sam laughing as he caught up with him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Dude, calm down," he chuckled, "we don't even know him."

Puck chewed the inside of his cheek nervously but stopped when he saw Sam's calm face. He let out a deep breath he didn't knew he was holding. It was fine. He shouldn't be freaking out like this, there was nothing going on. They were just two friends, about to see a movie, just like they always did, nothing special.

"But, since you paid for the tickets, I'm getting the popcorn and some drinks," Sam smiled easily.

Puck nodded silently, following him.

They were sitting in one of the back rows as the room darkened, the screen lightning up as the trailers began. He looked next to him and laughed at Sam shooting him one last dorky look with the 3D-glasses on. Puck shook his head as he slid down in his seat, getting comfortable while his eyes fixated on the screen.

"Captain America is so hot," he heard the blond whisper in his ear after a while. Puck almost choked on his popcorn, not expecting the comment, before he took a big chug of his coke. Sam looked at him and mouthed a sorry, sucking in his bottom lip. However, Puck's eyes trailed off to the flashing images in front of him again.

"Hawk-Eye is hotter, though," he whispered, glancing at his friend from the corners of his eyes, noticing his beaming smile.

Halfway through the movie Puck felt himself urging the need of grabbing Sam's hand. It wasn't like movie was scary. He just wanted to see how his body would respond to a intimate moment with a guy.

But despite he wanted it, he shockingly discovered that he didn't have the guts. He cursed silently at himself. Jesus Christ, Puck, what's the big deal? Usually when you went to see a movie with someone you would already be down her pants right now. But Sam wasn't a girl. Okay, don't over think, just do it. He gulped and raised his hand from the arm-rest, hovering over Sam's. Good, now just drop it. Come on. Do it. Drop your fucking hand, Puck. It's no big deal. Do it. Come on. Just. Fucking. Drop. It.

He closed his eyes vigorously when he touched Sam's skin. Oh God, oh God, oh God. He cautiously glanced through his eyelids at his friend, who just continued to watch the movie, not bothered by it, at all. Why wasn't he responding? Did he do something wrong? Was he actually touching his hand or was it someone else's? Oh fuck, don't let it be someone else's.

His breathing hitched in his throat when he suddenly felt Sam's hand turning, his fingers entangling Puck's as their palms closed on each other. Puck felt his heart pounding in his chest and for a second he thought it was going to burst out, but nothing happened. Oh my God, nothing was happening. He was holding Sam's hand and the world didn't came crashing down, he hadn't die all of a sudden or… Oh, fuck. Something _was_ happening. He shifted in his seat, feeling his jeans tighten.

Yup, his body was definitely liking the intimacy.

But why the hell was this happening now? He had made contact with Sam's body in much closer ways and also a lot of times and nothing happened then… Right? He started to doubt himself, but quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. He just wanted to enjoy the movie and the feeling of Sam's hand in his.

They laughed along with the crowd at the scene with The Hulk and Thor, Puck instantly feeling the tension flow from his body. He turns his head a little to watch Sam, granting him a warm heath when he saw him beaming like a little kid.

When the credits showed and the lights slowly got turned on again, he swiftly took his hand back. He had decided on taking things slow and one at a time, so openly showing affection to Sam was still out of the question. His friend seemed to understand, though, as he didn't say anything about it and just got up to walk to the exit.

"Oh my God, and that moment with The Hulk, grabbing him and just slamming him around in the middle of his speech," Sam rambled, "hilarious. So awesome. What a movie."

Puck just watched him, a smile portraying on his face. "You're so cute."

Sam stopped his jumping around and looked at him as Puck's eyes grew bigger.

"Forget I said that," he muttered, yanking the door of his truck open.

"Hey, calm down, it's fine." There was Sam's hand on his again. Puck sighed, not pulling away.

"It feels weird…" he softly admitted, his eyes pointing to Sam's thumb brushing over his knuckles.

"I know," Sam responded at the same volume, "but you'll figure it out, just go with the flow, for now. You know I won't think different of you."

Puck smiled a little at that, starting the engine. "Thanks, Sam."

"It's okay," the boy said, taking his hand because Puck needed to shift gears.

"So, how have you been?" the boy with the Mohawk asked, changing the subject en referring to Sam's depression.

"Good. I haven't cut for a week and a half," his friend answered in a satisfied tone.

"Fuck, Sam, that's great!" Puck complimented him, padding his shoulder while keeping his eyes on the road.

"Yeah… Although it wouldn't be a big deal if I had done it again."

Puck instantly pulled to the side, hitting the breaks. Sam shot him a blunt look.

"What did you just say?"

"That it's not a big deal," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance, receiving a hurt look from Puck, "think about it. It's just a cut, nothing more. I can't die because of it or something."

"Are these words actually coming out of your mouth?" the Mohawked boy asked unbelievably.

"Oh, come on. You gotta be real with me. It's like Sean said…"

"…Of course," Puck interrupted him, "I knew it."

"The only reason why you're upset right now is because you don't like him," Sam shot back.

Puck's mind couldn't grasp on what he was hearing. His jaw dropped open as he reminded himself of the 'nice chat' he had had with Sean. He clenched his fists.

"Really, Sam? You think that's why I'm upset?" he looked directly into his eyes, "how about I fucking care the world for you?"

He saw Sam gulping and his lips getting dry, turning his gaze away from him. "I'm just saying…"

"Don't. Because you know what? With every time you do that stupid thing to yourself, you're not only harming yourself physically, but also emotionally. And that's the biggest damage you can cause yourself," he started his truck again.

"Sorry," he head Sam whisper after a while.

"Let's just drop it. I can't deal with this now." And he really couldn't. He had felt himself getting worked up and he knew that his temper eventually would get the best of him. And that would probably result in telling Sam what Sean had said to him, which would mean that he would lose his best friend, forever.

After a moment of silence Puck started talking about their night again, hating the tension between them. Sam was soon back to rambling about how Black Widow should have her own movie, wildly gesturing with his hands and stuff. Puck pulled up on the Evans's driveway, silencing his truck.

"It's been fun, thanks," he said, looking at him.

"Yeah, apart from earlier, but yeah," Sam responded awkwardly, biting his lip again.

"You've really helped me already," Puck chose to ignore.

Sam smiled weakly. "Yeah, of course… You know I like the intimacy with you, so don't hesitate doing it again sometime. You know, if you feel like you need it."

"I won't," Puck promised.

There was a moment. Puck knew it. Sam felt it. If this was a date, they would have kissed right now.

But it obviously wasn't.


	9. Chapter 9 Sam

__**And here's another one. Please keep in mind to review, it gets me high.**

**Enjoy  
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><p><em>Chapter nine<em> – Sam

_So, basically you're saying that you had a date with Puck?_

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed deeply in annoyance. He was sitting in front of his laptop, the same way it had been almost every night since he had first spoken to Sean on the chat. Fortunately, they had moved to Skype and Sam realized that he actually knew the guy for two months now. But lately, he found that Sean was acting weird and especially since he had told him about the kiss he had shared with Puck at Blaine's party.

_No, that's not what I said. We just went to see a movie, as friends, and he held my hand, nothing special._

_Do you like him?_

Despite Sam's annoyance, he understood why the twenty-something guy was questioning him. If he was honest to himself, their dates had been amazing him every time and he felt safe with Sean. At least he didn't made a big deal or yelled at him when the blonde had thoughts about harming himself again.

What the teenage Evans' didn't know, was that his mind was still playing a trick on him. The comic freak still unfamiliar with Sean's true intensions and as expected; Puck hadn't told him. The boy with the Mohawk was still too afraid that Sam would turn on him and that their friendship would be lost forever. Especially since Puck had been developing feelings for the boy. As for Sean, he was still determined to make Sam his. Own him. The guy's reasons were still unknown, but did that even matter to the situation? No, it didn't, because time would show that things would exactly go like the guy had planned. At least, that was what he was convinced of.

_Not as much as I like you. Puck's just my best friend going through a rough time and he needs me to be there for him, so that's what I'm doing._

Honestly, Sam didn't know if it was the truth, but it would work for now. On the other hand, he really did like Sean and for now Puck was nothing more than his best friend. Would that ever change? Probably not. Did he wanted it to change? He wasn't sure.

_Hmm, I guess. I just thought we had something special here._

_We do, Sean, I swear. I feel so good when I'm around you. That whole depression thing isn't that big when I'm with you._

_But you feel better when you're around Puck._

_Can we just drop it?_

This conversation with Sean was triggering the voice in Sam's head again, telling him all sorts of stupid things he didn't know how to handle. His gaze went to his desk drawer and he hesitated for a moment, but shook the thought off. Instead, he took out his phone from his pocket and sent Puck a text, asking him if they could talk tomorrow afternoon, after school.

Exactly thirty-four seconds later Sam's phone buzzed and got informed that he apparently would be spending his afternoon at the Lima Bean.

A couple of minutes later after Puck's text, Sam had shut down his computer and went to bed. With his head on his cushion, he tried to focus on his quiet breathing and noticed that with every exhale, the voice in his head would get more silent.

Around two in the morning Sam's mind was at ease and projecting images he wouldn't remember in the morning.

The next day at school had been uneventful. He struggled with Spanish, stuttered in English class, rocked Science and almost aced his Math test. When the last bell rang Puck was already found by Sam's locker and they took his truck to drive to the Lima Bean together. After receiving their order, two large coffees with a vanilla muffin on the side, they sat down.

"So, what's up?" Puck asked, fiddling to get the white cap off his cup and put some sugar into the black liquid.

"I felt like…you know…again," Sam said softly, his insecurity suddenly taking the best of him.

Puck gave up his fight with the plastic for a moment and shot up his gaze, a mix of concern and disgust displaying in his hazel eyes. "And did you?"

"No," Sam now almost whispered.

"Good," Puck shot a proud smile at him, his hands going back to mess with his cup, "but what made you want to again?"

Sam gave a light shrug, sipping carefully from his hot coffee. "I guess I'm confused."

"About what?"

"Sean," the blonde sighed, "he has been acting weird since I told him about…about our kiss." He made sure his last words were barely audible, making sure that no one around them would hear them.

"You told him that?" Sam didn't notice the pretending in Puck's voice.

"Yeah…" Sam looked up, "was that wrong?"

"I don't know," his best friend's shoulders shook indifferently, "have you told him about our…movie night?"

Sam nodded, silently, expecting that Puck wouldn't like that.

"Great."

And he was right.

"That's just great, Sam," the Mohawked boy laid back in his chair and shook his head in disagreement.

The blonde thought about it for a second. What was the big deal, anyway? It wasn't like it had been a date, they had decided on that, so what was wrong with the fact that he had told Sean they went out?

But he knew the answer to that. Sure, their words had explained to be cool about it, but in their minds they both knew it was more than that. Hell, ever since Puck had told him about his new discovered feelings everything had changed. Now, they could also consider this as a date. Oh God, was it? Calm down, Sammy, calm down.

"Why are you upset about it?" he asked.

"Never mind, it's fine, I'm not," Puck answered, remembering that he couldn't tell Sam that he secretly was a little scared, because Sean would probably show up at his doorstep again.

"…Okay."

"I mean it, Sam," he managed to fake a confident smile, "we're fine."

A week later Sam had another date with Sean, but this time at his place. They had never went somewhere private, always at the park, the movies or the mall, because only then Sam would feel less nervous. He took a deep breath before he rang one of the doorbells, hoping it would be the right one. A familiar voice answered and Sam let the air leave his lungs in relief, only to be sucked back in again when he stepped into the building.

The rickety elevator took him to the fifth floor and as he left it he was standing in a narrow hallway. His eyes hovered over the numbers on the doors, having that authentic red color which was also common at motels. He stopped at the right one and before he could even mentally prepare himself the door already swung open, a bright smiling man standing in front of him.

"Hey Sam, come on in," Sean greeted him, making a welcoming gesture with his hand to let Sam in.

The smaller blonde walked in, looking around the place. The kitchen was on his left, nothing really special, just a lot of white. Opposite was Sean's bedroom, Sam had quickly figured, and he decided not to look into that direction again, afraid that he would send Sean the wrong vibe. Because hell, a date on his bed? Not yet…

"Would you like something to drink?"

Sam turned around to look at him. "Yeah, sure," he responded, "a coke's fine."

Sean nodded and walked towards the fridge in the kitchen, while Sam found the living room. There were two brown sofas in it, faced by a modern flat screen TV. The hard wooden floor had changed to red carpet, the same color as the drapes in front of the windows. He walked over to a bookcase, reading some of the backs of the books. And tapes. And oh my God he shouldn't have read that one. His cheeks flushed a little as he turned away from the adult videos. There was something awkward and…unpleasant about the place, but Sam hadn't figured out what it was yet.

"You know, you may take off your coat and sit down if you want to," he got pulled out of his thinking by a sudden voice behind him, "just make yourself at home."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Sam stuttered, a giggle escaping his lips. Why was he being so nervous all of a sudden? He slipped his jacket off and hung it over a chair by the dining table. Sean had already sat down on the couch and Sam debated if he should settle next to him or not. A few seconds later he thought he would lose his entire manhood if he wouldn't stop over thinking such things, because it made him appear like a girl. So, he felt Sean's shoulder brush against his as he got comfortable.

"Cheers," Sean smiled, holding up his glass, just another coke, as it seemed.

Their glasses made a soft clinging sound and Sam took a sip, feeling his nerves setting down immediately. Maybe he had just felt so stressed because of a shortage of sugar. His mind almost started summing up the things he had drank today, but Sean prevented it from happening.

"Have you spoken to Puck after your date?" he asked.

"It wasn't a date," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance, "why do you keep saying that?"

Sean shrugged it off in response. "I'm just…scared, I guess?" He scooted closer to the blonde, laying his hand down on Sam's knee. "I like you, so much. I just want you all for myself."

Sam tried to kill the butterflies in his stomach with another sip of his drink, hoping the carbon dioxide would suffocate them. "That's sweet," he whispered.

The older guy softly squeezed the cotton of Sam's jeans, along with some skin. "You are. You deserve someone who only wants you."

The blonde showed a crooked smile, but didn't dare to turn his head to look at him. He could already feel the tips of Sean's breath on his ear, so he knew that if he would, his lips would most likely catch him.

So instead, Sam chugged his drink, owning a surprised look from Sean.

"Man, you must be thirsty," he chuckled and got up from the sofa, "Im'ma grab you a new one."

Danger cleared.

A sigh left Sam's mouth and he closed his eyes for a brief moment, recollecting himself. He sure wasn't nervous anymore, though. Sean always seemed to have that effect on him; calm him down. The same went for Puck. Hmm, Puck. Sam's mind wandered off again and he reminded himself of the fact that he hadn't let Puck know he was on a date with Sean, which he had promised he would. He searched for his phone in his pocket and had to focus on the screen to read the tiny letters. He sent the text, telling Puck he was fine and at his chatmate's place.

"Here you are." Sam hadn't even heard Sean coming back into the room. He looked up at the young man and thankfully took the glass from him.

"Thanks," he shot another smile, feeling the corners of his mouth tingle a little when he did.

After Sean's hand had found his spot back on Sam's knee again, their conversation gained more flow, just chit chatting about everything and nothing. An hour and three cokes later, Sam was having so much fun he thought that he could take on the world and Sean… God, Sean looked so sexy. And his cologne definitely smelled nice.

Sam wondered when the last time had been when he had such a good time. It was weird, it almost seemed like he felt the same way as the night at Blaine's party, apart from the fact that he was sober right now.

"You're really amazing," there was Sean's hot breathing on his ear again.

"No, you are," the smaller one giggled, pushing the taller one playfully.

"Nope. You. It's because of your eyes, their greenness is breath taking," Sean complimented him again.

"But yours are, too!" Sam beamed at his lap.

"Oh please," Sean chuckled, "you don't even know what color mine are."

That made Sam turn his head, instantly faced into Sean's, apparently dark brown, eyes. They also seemed to get bigger. Oh, hey, and now they were closing. Sam giggled at his own mind, but stopped when he felt Sean's lips against his. Their kiss lasted, because Sam couldn't think clear enough to pull away, so he felt Sean's tongue pushing its way in between Sam's plump lips, gaining entrance to his mouth. The hand on his knee had ran up to his inner thigh and he could feel nails running though his blond hair.

He got pushed over more onto his back and Sam opened his eyes a little to see what was happening. He saw Sean's body hovering over his through his eyelashes as he felt some pressure on his crotch area. The moment Sam's eyes looked down and he noticed Sean's hand palming him to the fullest, he turned his head.

Sean only fixated on the freed skin on Sam's neck and started sucking on it, pushing his hand more firmly onto little Sam.

"No…" he moaned under him.

"Don't worry, you'll like it," Sean had found his earlobe and was now sucking eagerly on it.

Sam tried to turn his head again, but it seemed like there were no more muscles there. Suddenly, he felt his arm getting lifted and noticed that Sean had taken his hand with his own free one. The tips of Sam's fingers felt hot, sweaty skin underneath them, but this got taken away by the cotton of Sean's underwear.

"No, please," he groaned again, knowing what Sean wanted him to do with his hand.

He shocked when he felt Sean's grip around his hand tightening and his pants getting unbuttoned. He spurred his eyes wide open.

"Stop," Sam now managed to exclaim on a normal sound level . He didn't know how, but he yanked his hand away from Sean's grip. He put his palms down on the guys chest and gave him one strong push, which caused Sean to lose his balance.

Sam crawled away from him and dropped on the floor, thanking God for the carpet. He looked up and tried to get on his feet, but the room was suddenly spinning around and his head felt a lot heavier than before. A hand grabbed around in search for his ankle, but Sam managed to claw his body forward. His arms found support on the other sofa and he pulled himself up, stumbling on his legs. Why did it feel like he was in a sick rollercoaster?

The blonde noticed Sean had gotten up from the couch himself and was now walking up to him, so Sam stumbled backwards.

"Sam, calm down," the guy said.

"No, get away from me," Sam muttered, trying to hold his gaze.

"I just want you…"

Sam's left foot got stuck behind his right one and he cursed softly as he knees buckled.

"What did you do to me?" he exclaimed, before he felt himself falling backwards.

A shot of vicious pain shot through the back of his head as it hit the bookcase. His vision went black and the last thing his brain could get through to him were the last pulses of books falling onto his face and shoulders. Before he went out, he had figured out what the thing was that was missing in Sean's apartment. It was the thing that made a house a home, gave the person in it a story, an identity. But when he didn't feel shards of glass from picture frames cutting his bare skin, he knew he should've wished that he had never met Sean.

Hours later, a buzzing in Sam's pocket brought him back to life. He gasped as his eyes shot open and was looking very closely at random, tiny, black letters in front of him. He got up and the book fell down from his face, immediately regretting it when he started to feel nauseous and his head had begun pounding. A moment later, he remembered where he was and what had happened. The first thing Sam checked were his clothes and thankfully, they were still intact, which meant that Sean probably hadn't touched him.

But where was the guy? Sam decided to not go look for him, but just get the hell out of the place. He held himself steady against the bookcase that had so vigorously knocked him out earlier. Another buzz came from his pocket. Oh, yeah, right, his phone!

He yanked it out and unlocked the screen, but the bright light in the middle of the dark living room made his head spin again. That's when he grabbed the side of the dining table and his upper body made a shocking motion. Sam puked over the red carpet, now happy that it was too dark to see what the hell had come out. He stumbled to the hallway and leaned his back against the wall, trying if he could already handle the light again.

It was a text from Puck and Sam didn't even bother to try reading it. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his thumb, which was pressing random buttons on his phone. When he thought he had hit 'send' he hoped it had worked and walked out of the apartment, his weak body finding support against the wall every now and then. He noticed that the front door was already open and considering the house seemed empty, Sam figured Sean had ran out in panic when he didn't woke up.

The cold air outside hit his face and cleared his mind a little. His emerald eyes looked around to find his way to the exit of the building, but before he had found it, he noticed the depth beneath him. Oh, that's right, Sean lived on the fifth floor. The blonde gulped, images of his night on the lamppost flashing before his eyes. Fear overtook his heart, so he pressed his back to the brick behind him and moved himself sideways to the nearest staircase.

He carefully walked down the steps one by one, too frightened to trip and barf again. When he had finally reached the ground floor, a steel gate was gloating in front of him. Sam silently wished upon every possible God that it would be open, because he probably wouldn't be able to get back upstairs and take the elevator on the other side of the building.

As what felt like a miracle, the gate screeched open and Sam walked as fast as he could towards his car. His trembling hands opened the door and he pulled himself into the driver's seat. He started the vehicle with his keys, but when he saw the world in front of him turning again, he killed the engine. He could only drive this way if he wanted to die. On the other hand, what if Sean decided to come back and he found him? He would probably… Sam shivered at the thought.

Just when the blonde felt his eyes closing again, a bundle of lights shone into his face. A car was driving up to him and Sam sucked in his bottom lip anxiously. Fuck, he was screwed. He knew it. He knew it was Sean and he was going to grab him out of his car and rip him apart. The car stopped a couple of feet away from him. Touch him. Undress him. Sam shut his eyes closed, tears welling up in them as he heard footsteps going around him. His door got pulled open as he had almost started crying. He gasped as he felt two arms around his waist, but then a shot of adrenaline got pumped through his veins. He started kicking his feet and slamming around his arms, hissing when his wrist hit the side of his open door, a last attempt into keeping Sean away from him.

But it wasn't Sean's voice who was whispering into his ear.

"Sammy, it's okay," Puck shushed him softly, holding him firmly.

Sam froze and his eyes shot open, releasing a tear from them. The energy fainted from his body and his stomach churned again. His insides hit the ground for a second time, out of fear, but mostly out of his concussion.

Puck opened the door to the backseat of Sam's car and managed to lie him down inside. He slammed the door shut again and walked back to his truck, getting out a blanket and making sure it was locked up. When he reached Sam's car again, he got in on the other side of the backseat and forced Sam to sit up, before letting him rest his head on his lap. He laid down the blanket over his best friend's body and sighed.

"What. The. Fuck. Happened?" he demanded, directly looking into Sam's eyes.

"I-I think Sean d-drugged me," Sam stuttered at the sudden realization, "and he tried to…to…err…"

"…he tried to touch you?" Puck finished for him.

Sam nodded silently in embarrassment, his eyes turning away from the boy with the Mohawk, who was clenching his fists to not lose his temper.

"Then I bumped my head and got knocked out," Sam further explained when he had caught his breath again.

"Jesus Christ, so that's why you fucking puked," Puck cursed, "which parts of your body hurt?"

Sam knew what Puck was asking with that question and shook his head. "I think he panicked when I didn't wake up."

Puck nodded his head and released his tension. His hand found the strands of blond hair on Sam's forehead and softly brushed them away, which caused Sam to silently let out a relieved sob.

"I knew I should've told you he was bad news," Puck sighed when Sam's shoulders had stopped shaking. The blond searched his face in confusion.

"He was at my doorstep the other day," Puck started explaining, "you had told him about the kiss and he just wasn't too pleased with that. He threatened me, saying you were his and that he intended on 'popping your cherry' and that I shouldn't bother telling you…because you would never believe me…"

Sam glanced up at him, a mixture of shock, disbelief and hurt on his face. "And you thought that was true?" he asked.

"Oh, please," Puck looked back down with a judging look, "be honest with me. Would you've believed me? You're head over heels with the guy." The annoyance was almost radiating from his body. Almost.

"Not anymore…" the blonde whispered in response, "but you're right. I probably wouldn't have…"

An awkward silence fell in between them, which Puck broke by allowing the air out of his lungs. "I am glad you kept your promise, though."

Sam shrugged indifferently. "Not that it made a difference. He still…" He couldn't finish his sentence.

"Yeah, but I'm here now,"

The comic freak pursed his lips and nodded softly. "Thank you…"

"Don't," the Mohawked boy demanded, "just promise me you're done with him now." If it was more of his interest than Sam's, he didn't know.

"Of course!" Sam replied, maybe a little too convincing, "I never want to see or speak to Sean ever again."

"Good."

Half an hour later Sam was brought home by Puck. As expected, the elder Evans were already asleep and Sam figured that he would deal with them in the morning. They probably wouldn't have been that worried anyway, because he hadn't heard from either of them and because he had told them that he was at Puck's. When he got to under his sheets a feeling of disgust dropped over him again and even though he was still nauseous, he managed to fall asleep.


	10. Chapter 10 Puck

__**First of all, I think I need to sincerely apologize for the fact that I haven't been uploading for like...three months. :| I had a major writing block and just ugh, it was awful. Anyway, I'm back now and already started writing chapter eleven as well. I hope this short Puck chapter will make up for my major fail in activity and I hope that all of you lovely readers still will**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Chapter ten<em> – Puck

In front of the mirror, Puck was searching his own appearance. He looked at his strong jaw line, his bulged up arms and at his Mohawk. Seriously, how could someone as badass as him like a guy? A _guy_, for fuck sake. He scowled at himself, shaking his head in disagreement. It couldn't be true. Dudes like him didn't fall for someone of the same sex, they just didn't, it was written in the manual of mankind.

But, like always in these kind of moments lately, Blaine's story repeated itself in his head again. He sighed at himself. "It does make sense somewhere," he said softly to his reflection. But who said he wasn't mistaken his friendship with Sam for something there actually wasn't? Who could tell him if it wasn't just the fact that his best friend was confusing him, because he happened to be gay? The boy with the Mohawk shrugged at himself. Maybe he wasn't "in love" – as people called it – after all. Yeah, that should be it. It probably was the situation, with Sam who likes guys, his depression, their intimacy and so on.

When Puck noticed his hazel eyes harden, as if a wall was thrown up around his soul, he realized that his speculations weren't true. And although he found it hard to accept, he did his best to keep the Puckasaurus in his cage and let Noah come up with a solution and maybe make him see who he really was.

"I…I'm…" he hesitated, because Noah felt like saying it out loud. Of course Puck wasn't sure if it would add to the situation, but he figured to why not give it a shot. There want anything he could lose anyway.

"I…am…I…like…this is pathetic," he stated frustratingly, sliding a hand through his Mohawk and scratching his head. He glanced at himself one more time before walking out of the bedroom. He dropped the towel from his waist onto the floor and put on his boxer briefs, dressing up for school.

Later that day he had football practice. It was pouring down and Puck had figured that coach Beiste must have been on her 'happy' time of the month, because she looked determined to kill him and his teammates. After the fiftieth round of laps – maybe he was exaggerating just a little – she finally called them to hit the showers. Walking back over the soppy field, Puck glanced over at his best friend, who smiled gently at him. Instantly, the boy with the Mohawk felt that warm feeling spreading through his veins again and The Saurus silently cursed at himself.

After some thinking, Puck figured that it might was a good idea to talk to Sam about his…feelings. God, _feelings_. The last player of their team left the locker rooms and Puck wondered if Sam maybe had a sixth sense, considering he seemed to be a lot slower today. Then again, he could also be tired as fuck, just like Puck, from practice.

"Hey, can we talk?" Puck secretly hated to start a conversation with that sentence, because it seemed to make things a lot heavier, but he didn't know how to begin any other way.

"Yeah, sure, what's up?" Sam responded, putting on his sneakers.

"First of all, how have you been?" Puck sat down next to him on the wooden bench, searching Sam's face with concern in his hazel eyes.

Sam knew what his best friend referred to and he smiled weakly. "I'm okay," he said, "I have been having those nightmares again, though.""

Puck nodded understandingly and sighed. "Yeah, I guess what happened has taken his toll." He rubbed Sam's back soothingly. "Have you heard from him since that night?"

The blond shook his head, the smile on his face growing more relieved. "No. And if I would have, I would have told him to fuck off."

Puck couldn't withhold a soft laughter at that, a weight leaving his shoulders.

"Now what's secondly?" Sam suddenly asked.

The Mohawked boy blinked a couple of times since he had already forgotten why he had started the conversation in the first place. He shrugged at the fact that the interest of Sam's well-being did that to his memory.

"Oh, yeah," he thought about how he should start, kicking himself mentally because he hadn't thought of that before, "I think…I'm getting there. You know, with the…confusion…and all."

Sam nodded at him and Puck was happy that his friend always appeared to understand him, even though he wasn't that good with words. Sam stayed silent and Puck knew he was waiting for him to elaborate.

"So…I tried admitting it to myself in the mirror, this morning."

Sam laughed inarticulately and Puck shot him an innocent look, holding his hands up in the air a little.

"Whoa?! What else am I supposed to fucking do?" he exclaimed playfully, glad that they had a moment of laughter, because it was making the atmosphere around them lighter.

"Nothing, nothing, it's fine," Sam apologized with a grin on his face, shaking his head, "and, did it work?"

Puck shook his head in denial. "I don't know, I couldn't say it out loud." Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "The words just wouldn't leave my mouth."

"Do you think they will when we do it together?" the comic freak offered. "I mean, it might help. I feel like you always talk easier when I'm around."

Puck thought about it for a moment and decided that it did make sense. After all, he was always being like Noah when he was around the blond, so maybe it would work. At least Noah didn't have that humongous ego or robust appearance.

"Come here," Sam suddenly moved up from the bench and took Puck's hand, leading him to the full view mirror in the shower room. Puck gulped at the feeling of Sam's hand in his, but soon the feeling vanished and he was looking at his reflection, just like a couple of hours earlier. Only this time, Sam was standing behind him with a confident smile.

"Okay, you ready?" Sam asked.

Puck only nodded.

"Just repeat after me."

Puck nodded again and watched Sam's mouth moving.

"I…"

"I…"

"am…"

"am…"

"gay…"

"Dude, shut up, I'm not," Puck stated, elbowing Sam near his ribcage.

"Ouch, fuck you," Sam hissed, a hand rubbing against the spot where Puck had hit him, "you just said that you have figured stuff out."

"Yeah, duh, but not that I'm gay!" Puck exclaimed, "I'm bi, you moron."

Sam just stood there, smirking at him. It took Puck's mind a moment before it had grasped on why, but then he got it.

"Oh…" he voiced, turning back to the mirror. He looked at himself, right into his own eyes.

"I'm bi," he repeated, "I'm bi… Bi-fucking-sexual… Dude!" He turned to Sam. "Do you know what that means?! My 'to fuck'-list can be expanded now! Holy shit!" He jumped on his heels, pulling Sam into a victorious hug. Their eyes met just inches away from each other and Sam's smirk slowly vanished to a soft smile.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered.

That was the moment when Puck couldn't resist the urge any longer. Noah had taken over and now his entire body craved for just one thing. So he pressed his lips up against Sam's, who gasped in surprise, hesitated, but then answered it by deepening the kiss just when Puck was about to pull away. And so it lasted. Seconds, minutes, hours, it seemed, but when their eyes opened and hazel met emerald, they both knew nothing lasted forever.

Even when dawn had fallen around Lima, Puck still felt enlightened. You could almost say that he felt reborn, lucky, happy… Proud. He wondered if Sam and he were an 'item' now, but figured it didn't matter. Right now, the most important thing in his life was the honesty towards himself. The Puckasaurus was locked in his cage for good and from now on, Noah would be on the surface. And the most amazing thing about that was that Puck felt good about it. He felt right. Reborn.

He was walking down the block of his house into the direction of a home where a boy lived who Puck needed to thank. The rain had stopped and he was avoiding the puddles that had formed on the pavement. A few minutes later he had reached the house and rung the doorbell. Last time he was here it was thundering and not even planned.

The door opened and a middle aged woman stared in his face.

"Who are you?" she said, the slight disgust sounding through her voice.

"I'm Pu-, Noah," Puck quickly corrected himself, "I take it you're Blaine's mother? Nice to meet you, ma'am." The boy with the Mohawk held out his hand politely and he could see the woman hesitating for a second before shaking it.

"Yes, I most certainly am," she answered, still a little stunned by the boy's appearance.

"Is Blaine home?" he asked.

"Puck?" the curly haired boy suddenly showed up from behind his mother, "what are you doing here?"

"I've come to thank you," Puck smiled, surprised by how decent he was acting himself.

"Oh? What for?" Blaine asked while his eyes examined him curiously. His mother elbowed him softly. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, come in."

Puck nodded and stepped inside, making a victory dance in his head when he figured that Blaine's mother apparently must have liked him already when she had nudged her son.

"We'll be up in my room, mother," he said to his mom before walking up the stairs. Puck followed him on the familiar way after shooting another nod to Blaine's mom.

"So, why do you wanted to thank me again?" Blaine instantly asked as he closed the door of his bedroom. Puck settled down onto the sofa, the same spot as he had sat before, and looked at him.

"For sharing your story with me, the other day," the badass answered, "I know who I am, now."

Blaine's eyebrows crooked up in surprise. "You do?" He sat down next to him.

"Yup," Puck relaxed, "I'm bi."

"Noah! That's great!" Blaine exclaimed, padding his shoulder, "have you told Sam yet?"

"Well actually, he has helped me to admit it to myself," Puck answered truthfully.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he made me say it..." he gained a dark smirk on his face, "…then we kissed."

Blaine bounced up and down in excitement. "That's so cool!" he exclaimed, "I'm happy for you, dude." He got silent for a moment, seeming to take an opportunity to place the new information, then, his smile brightened again. "Oh my, we can go on double dates!" he stated, "there's this new movie, The Vow, which just aired and me and Kurt were just dying to see it and…"

"Let me stop you right there," Puck interrupted, waving his hand, "we aren't dating, yet. Or at least not official, I think. I don't know, actually."

"Well what's keeping you?!" Blaine asked, almost blasting through the roof in his hyper activity, "you guys would be so cute together…"

"Oh, shut up," Puck scowled, grinning, "but seriously, I don't know. We just…haven't discussed it yet."

It seemed as if Blaine was finally settling down, because he shrugged gently. "Well, I guess that's fine. I mean, one step at a time right?"

"Exactly. And today was a pretty big one."


	11. Chapter 11  Sam

__**Okay, so maybe I feel a little guilty for not updating my story for that long. So yeah, here's another chapter. :] Please don't forget to review, they really motivate me!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Chapter eleven <em>– Sam

Rushes of heath were shooting through Sam's body. He had just gotten home from the locker rooms where the exciting revelation of Puck's feelings had showed itself and somehow the blond couldn't be happier. He hopped out of his car after it had been parked in the driveway of the Evans' household. His hand made a quick and waving motion to his mother, who was standing in front of the kitchen window while she was probably cooking dinner for her family. Sam exclaimed a loud greeting before entering the living room where Mr. Evans sat in his usual spot on the couch. He looked up, noticing the corners of his son's mouth being pulled upwards, displaying a big, toothy grin on his face.

"Let me guess, they finally announced that there's going to be a second Avatar film?" he joked about Sam's obsessive interest on the movie.

"Very funny, dad, you know you could just ask me when you suspect something happened," the blond responded with a playful roll of his eyes.

His father chuckled in delight at his response. "Okay. Why are you smiling like the Joker?" Maybe Sam's dad liked to tease his son way too much, but then again, it was way too hard not to.

"The Joker doesn't have a smile, dad, it's more like an evil smirk. Besides, it's make-up."

His father upped one of his eyebrows at Sam, along with a little, judgmental shake of his head. "That wasn't really the point, Samuel."

The blond shyly glanced towards the tiles under his feet, realizing that he had let his dad successfully mess with him. "Oh, yeah, right, of course, I know," he stammered, rolling his eyes mentally when he picked up on the giggle that left his mouth before deciding that he should just get past the moment. "Well, I had an…interesting day with Noah, so I guess that's why." Sam smirked when his father's face turned into confusion at the name he had never heard before. The reason that the teenage boy had used his best friend's real name was because he knew about his different sides and that day it had all been Noah. There was no ego, no cockiness, just honesty and Sam knew that that was his best friend's true self, not the alter ego he had been hiding behind for so long.

"Who is Noah?" the expected question finally sounded through the living room.

"It's Puck's real name," the blond answered with a nod, the signs of happiness not leaving his face.

Mr. Evans cocked his head to the side a little, obviously still connection the dots between the fact that "Puck" had been made out of "Puckerman", Noah's last name. He then mouthed an understanding 'oh' before question marks expressed themselves in his appearance again. "So what did you guys do that made you so happy?" Then the signs on his face turned to exclamation marks and he suspiciously examined his son up and down. "Samuel, are you in love with Puck?"

A furious red blush spread across the younger Evans' cheeks and he flinched at the question. He parted his lips and took a breath to say something, but suddenly he found himself short of words, which was weird because why should he be? The answer was simple and negative, right? He watched how a dark smirk grew on his father's face and Sam knew he had to say _something_ now, because his old man was obviously already making assumptions that Sam didn't want to hear.

"No! No, no, no of course not, dad!" he exclaimed, his heart speeding in his chest.

Dwight frowned at him. "Are you sure, son?" he asked for reassurance.

"Yeah, duh, of course, yes, hmhm," Sam nodded rapidly.

"Then turn green again and drive along," his dad joked, averting his eyes to the television screen again as he decided to let the subject go. Clearly, he had picked up on something that his son hadn't realized yet and he was happy to let his parenting instinct kick in and be patient about it.

Meanwhile, Sam's head was racing with a million thoughts and it seemed as if he was frozen-solid. His emerald eyes had a focused look in them as he searched his mind for answers. However, it didn't take long before he slammed his hand against his own forehead after the realization had hit him. Of course! He had been so busy with Sean and his depression that he had totally neglected and ignored the craving that burned inside of him. A hunger for the affection of his best friend. Hell, they had even been on a date, which actually wasn't a date, to the movies and sure, Sam had liked that, but he figured just as close friends. But then the memory of their kiss at the party and the kiss from that afternoon flashed through his mind. Yup, he really _was_ stupid. The revelations started to settle down and find a place in Sam's head as he felt himself getting back to earth. Luckily, his dad had turned his attention back to the TV, because the youngest Evans sure wasn't ready to admit to his feelings out loud already.

With a deep sigh, he reached for the phone in his pocket, because like all new stuff he found out, he had to talk about it with his best friend.

_We need to talk._

It only took seconds before the device buzzed in Sam's hand.

_Yes. Dinner tomorrow night? I'll pick you up at eight._

And for the second time that afternoon, a giggle left Sam's mouth.

The twenty four hours of after that moment had been the longest of the comic freak's life. Time seemed to be ticking as slowly as possible and exactly a second before he would've gone insane, the digital clock in the screen of his laptop showed eight. Another second after that, the doorbell sounded and Sam almost threw himself down the set of stairs, only to see that his father had still been a little faster. "Good evening, Puck," he greeted him before watching his anxious son miss the last step downwards.

"Evening, Mr. Evans, how are you?" Puck asked as politely as always when he was facing either of Sam's parents. "Hey, Sam."

"H-hi," the blond panted shyly, realizing perfectly well that he was about to go on a real and official date with his best friend.

And apparently his father knew that, too. Because as the two boys left the front door and walked over to Puck's truck, the sound of his voice reached their ears.

"I want him home by twelve, Puck!"

"DAD!" Sam turned around to exclaim with an upset look on his face. Though, the door was already closing, restraining the two from hearing the delighted laughter leaving Mr. Evans' throat.

"Sorry about that," the blond apologized nervously as soon as they both got into the vehicle.

"It's fine, dude," Puck chuckled, actually able to see the joke in it, "at least it shows he really accepts you."

"I think that wasn't what he was going for, but yeah."

"What do you mean?" The mohawked boy asked confusedly.

Sam bit his lip, debating if he should already confess his feelings towards his best friend. "Let's just say he probably picked up on something he shouldn't have," the blond decided not to.

Puck showed an indifferent shrug, seeming to not get into Sam's vague words. "Okay," was his brief respond while he focused on the road.

"So how are you feeling? You know, after yesterday and stuff?" the blond threw it onto another subject. He suddenly realized that maybe Puck's thoughts had changed and that there was a fifty percent chance that his best friend had gotten back into denial of who he really was.

"Great, actually," the hazel-eyed boy answered confidently, turning his head to look at his friend for a moment, "but why do you seem so happy about that?"

Sam's face flushed a bright pink and he felt himself getting hot, noticing that his lips were, yet again, displaying a grin that spoke novels about the emotions that we're going through his body. He quickly averted his gaze to the side window, hoping that the mohawked man wouldn't have picked up on his slight moment of shame and discomfort. "I'm just happy for you that you finally sorted everything out for yourself," his voice cracked a little.

"You're lying," Puck stated easily while his eyes were focusing on the road ahead of them.

Sam's jaw dropped an inch or two as he quickly resisted the urge to look at the driver's seat. "Whatever, dude," he failed to sound indifferent, the judging consideration on Puck's face confirming that. "Look, I'll tell you when we're at the restaurant, okay?" he sighed, rubbing the frown on his forehead. It was the first time the blond actually disliked the fact that everyone who was close to him somehow always managed to look right through him. Sure, in the time of his depression it had been helpful most of the time, but now he felt like it was just afflicting him.

Eight hundred and fifty seven seconds later – yes, Sam had counted them to keep his mind off of the thing he had to do that night – they arrived at the restaurant. BreadstiX, of course, because it was still Puck that was taking him on a date, the one who didn't have any sense for romance whatsoever. They sat down in one of the booths and it was in the moment that Sam watched his own hand shaking as he was holding the menu when he realized his nerves were wracking. He allowed his thoughts to get through to him for just a second and surprisingly enough they were helpful for once. They showed the memory of Puck telling Sam he had 'confusing' feelings for him and that basically, the blond shouldn't have to be scared nor nervous about this conversation. His love for him had already been answered, so it was just a matter of offering the same commitment as his best friend had done that one night when he had shown up on his doorstep unannounced.

"A Sprite, please," he ordered his drink. When the waitress had left their table he swallowed. Puck was looking at him expectantly, but didn't say a word. It was amazing how he had changed in the past few months. Sam always felt understood by him and, while at first it had just been a vague speculation, he now knew for a hundred percent that the hazel-eyed boy had figured out how to handle him. It was the uttermost perfect feeling he had ever experienced and his whole being just craved to hold onto that for the rest of eternity. It was the only thing he would ever need.

"It happened yesterday," Sam broke the silence by starting to explain why he had been wanting to talk, "when I had gotten home after practice, my dad had taken notice of the fact that I was smiling like an idiot, even though I hadn't realized it myself. He asked me some witty question about me liking you and that's when everything fell into place." The blond had been staring at the table in front of him the entire time, but now his eyes looked up to lock gaze with Puck's. Emerald met hazel and it was the boost of confidence he needed to voice the words he wanted to speak. "I'm in love with you, Noah."

Silence fell around the boys, yet the restaurant was still filled with loud voices and clinging glasses. And apparently, the thoughts in Sam's mind had soothed him, because he felt comfortable and at ease. He wasn't worrying nor regretting that he had spoken the truth to and about his best friend.

"I like that you call me Noah," Puck broke their moment, and screwed it up, of course. Sam exclaimed a loud groan in response followed by a chuckle and a playful shake of his head.

"That really wasn't the point," he repeated his father's words from the day before, a grin showing on his face. He actually loved how his best friend always managed to make him laugh. It made him feel real, since he knew nothing could be perfect.

"I know, but you already know how I feel about you…Sammy," the mohawked boy tried to shrug it off, but Sam knew what kind of emotions were running through his body right now. "I'm in love with you, too."

The heath that had been spoken of so many times before boiled up in Sam's heart, overflowing his chest and started flushing through his veins, warming his entire body. It was safe, reassuring.

"Sammy?" the blond decided to mimic his easiness by also 'missing out' on the point. Puck picked up on it and chuckled.

"Yeah. I think it's gonna be my cute nickname for you," he mumbled, letting Sam know he would probably never get used to the sappiness that came with being in love with someone.

"So…we're agreeing that this is a real date?" Sam threw it on another subject again, only to lighten the atmosphere around them so that his friend would go back to feeling comfortable.

"Oh, hell yes," Puck responded, excitement dripping from his appearance, "I'll be trying to get into your pants later." The teasing wink showed that he wasn't being serious.

Sam glanced away shyly as he blushed. He hadn't even thought about sharing that new kind of intimacy with him. It was kind of legitimate, though, since he didn't know about his feelings until yesterday. And then there was the…thing…that had happened with Sean. A shiver crept up the boy's spine at the remembrance, but he quickly shrugged it off. His past mistakes weren't going to mess this up for him.

"Down, boy," he therefore joked in response, but there was still some truth behind them. Puck only nodded understandingly and showed him a small, soothing smile, again amazing Sam with how much he had changed.

No further words were wasted on that chapter of their date. The boys just ordered their food and got to eating and if it wasn't for the look in their eyes, people would've thought that they were just two good friends having dinner. But Puck's slightly charming, witty comments and Sam's occasional shy blushing showed that there was hanging more in the air around them than that there was on the surface. It was a new, skinny, exciting and different love for the both of them, but Sam knew that their solid foundation based on friendship was going to make it the most steady relationship they would ever experience. Eventually.

After Puck had paid the bill, which Sam only had agreed on when his friend reminded him that he had practically forced their meet-up to be a date, something the blond hadn't realized before, Puck drove them back to the Evans' household. Sam stepped out and the other did the same, walking him up to his porch and Sam knew soon the most awkward 'movie' moment would happen. The scene where he would thank him for the night and Puck would look expectantly at him. An invisible cloak of silence would fall around them and right when Sam would tell him good night, Puck would kiss him.

"Thanks for dinner. I had a great time."

"Don't mention it. Me too."

Silence.

"So…good night."

"Sam?"

A firm hand wrapped around Sam's arm and he turned back, instantly the grip loosened and before the blond knew it, he was staring into the eyes of the one he was in love with, his best friend, Noah. The boys had kissed two times before, but they weren't romantic nor special. The first was when they had been drunk and the other was out of an impulse of relief. But people say three times' a charm and when Sam's plump lips brushed against Puck's, he knew that saying was a true fact. Their eyes closed in harmony and their mouths locked. Sam felt an arm wrapping around his waist while the other hand found the back of his head as the fingers on it entangled in his blond hair. A gasp through his nose sounded when he got pulled close, his body pushing up against that of his friend's. He responded by throwing his arms around the other's neck and parted his lips a little. The tips of their tongues met in a soft touch and a shiver went down Sam's spine. He tasted the sweetness of Puck's mouth and little bolts of electricity shot down the front of his body as they played a heated game with each other. He felt nails softly scratching his head comfortingly and the comic freak let himself fall into the caressing motions Puck was making. Sam's mind clouded with nothing but the fluff caused by their display of honest affection. Their kiss was fearless and the boy never wanted it to end. He had always felt safe in the arms of his mohawked friend, but now that he had confessed his true feelings to himself, it was all being taken to a whole higher level of protection. The cliché illusion that world and time had stopped moving, just for them to memorize every movement their bodies would make.

But the same as it had been in every sci-fi, romantic-comedy Sam had seen, the moment had to pass and be messed up by some third party that they couldn't control. So the light on the Evans' porch switched on, which had probably been caused by Sam's father, because even though he was happy for his son, midnight was still midnight.

Their moment ended when their pursed lips changed to small smiles, their foreheads resting against each other as they kept their eyes closed. Barely audible chuckles were heard and their mixed flavors were still on lingering on each of their lips. Sam licked his in anticipation before his eyes fluttered open and locked with Puck's, who seemed confident and excited as ever.

"Good night," the blond whispered, a crack weaving though his voice.

"Sweet dreams, Sammy."


	12. Chapter 12 Puck

__**I'm sorry for not updating for a long time. I've moved to London to start an internship and, next thing I know, all my free time had disappeared.**

**Anyway, I hope that his Puck chapter will make you smile, and maybe even chuckle a little. If you don't hate me too much, I'd like it if you would post a review. It's really nice to get some reassurance that people are actually reading and liking your story. But most of all, if you are reading this story, I would just like you to**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Chapter twelve<em> – Puck

A week had passed and Puck was at Sam's house again, this time just to play videogames. The boys had discovered that it didn't really matter what they would be doing as long as they were next to each other. They even didn't feel the need to talk or touch each other, Puck hated to be all over someone anyway. Still, that didn't mean that the blond haired boy, who was sitting next to him on the floor, hadn't been on his mind since their date at the restaurant – or maybe Sam had been on his mind for a while, but he hadn't noticed it before. His mind trailed off, which caused him to lose focus on their shooting game.

"Ah, fuck!" the mohawked boy exclaimed in an impulse of frustration, while his hand was in the air, ready to throw the controller – Sam's controller – across the room.

"Whoa! Calm down!" The blond quickly clamped himself around Puck's bicep, who lowered his arm immediately since he couldn't hold the weight. "We should really do something about your temper," Sam joked, a teasing grin on his face, "sometimes I just forget what an awful version of a loser you are."

Puck showed him a fake smile before his face turned entirely serious. An unannounced staring contest had soon started, but the hazel eyed boy wouldn't be himself if he wouldn't cheat. So his hands found Sam's sides and he started tickling him playfully.

"No. No, stop! Please, please, please, stop," the begging sounded, "Noah, I'm…serious, please, stop, I'm begging you, please."

Their young bodies had rolled over, mainly due to Sam's floundering, and Puck was now lying on top of him. They were panting ever so slightly, the Evans' breath hitching in his throat a couple of times in a gasp when the mohawked man started hovering over the boy's body again, even though it was innocent this time.

"Told you we should do something about your temper," Sam just couldn't stop himself, "you attack me when I point it out, which means you're confirm-"

"Alright, that's it," Puck interrupted as he removed himself off the boy, only to pick him up. "You're gonna die."

For a moment, Sam thought that they were going to play another round on their videogame, but the Puckerman had other plans. With a soft screech that came from Sam's mattress, he was thrown onto the bed, his love interest on top of him within seconds. If wasn't a long struggle, since Puck had always been stronger than Sam, but the boy still fought for his life. It was when the mohawked guy was holding his wrists in one hand, above his own head, that the blond realized what Puck's plan was. Puck noticed how Sam's eyes widened for a split second and a smirk appeared on his face.

"Noah!"

Puck had successfully pinned Sam down to the bed, his knees resting on the boy's upper arms as he sat on his chest. The position made Sam unable to do anything since his arms were out and there was no way his legs could bent in a way that he could even possibly _graze_ Puck's back. On top of that, since his arms were above his head, his armpits were exposed, which could only mean…

"Noah! Noah, no, stop, please, please, please, I'm begging you, please, stop, please," the Evans exclaimed helplessly, his loud laughter sounding through the room.

"Say it." Puck stopped his torture for a moment.

Sam opened his mouth, sucked in some air, but then pursed his lips again.

"Fine," Noah shrugged, poking the blond's most ticklish body parts.

"Okay, okay!" Sam squirmed, "Noah Puckerman is king over all that is badass."

"Good boy," Puck was showing a satisfied smirk. He moved his lower body downwards so that he could lie on top of Sam. Their eyes met and he started examining the emerald, the many different dyes of the green. Have they even invented all those colors yet? Like, when you choose a color on your computer and you have that weird tablet that seems to have _all_ the colors, would it be there? He doubted it.

"I like it when your body twitches," he grinned in a whisper as he watched Sam's cheeks flush a little redder than they were before. The strands of blond hair were scattered across his forehead and Puck pushed a pattern into them while he lowered his head and found Sam's lips in a kiss. One of those kisses that starts of very gentle, but turns more heated after a while. One of those kisses that Puck loved the most. The tip of his tongue was softly playing with Sam's as he moved his hand through the blond hair, slightly tugging on it every once in a while. His free hand had found a way under Sam's shirt and when his fingers made contact with the other boy's bare stomach, a bolt of electricity went through his body. And apparently also through Sam's, because his abs tensed for a moment. They smiled in between their kisses, both thinking of the comment that Puck had made earlier. But their little make out session continued which caused Puck to softly push his hips into Sam's, anticipating for some friction. He could feel that the boy under him froze for a moment, but decided to ignore it. His hand moved upwards under Sam's shirt and on top of his muscled chest he found a hard nipple. He pinched it teasingly and the blond sucked in a quick breath. Puck was smirking in his mind and opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of the turned on look on Sam's face. However, if that was what the boy looked like when he was starting to get hot, then…

"Are you alright?" he asked with a cracking voice.

Sam sucked in his bottom lip uncomfortably and Puck wouldn't call the boy his best friend if he didn't know what that meant. So he rolled off of him, lying on his side with his hand supporting his head.

"No, it's fine, I'm sorry," Sam quickly stammered. But Puck shook his head.

"Shut up."

He laid a hand over the place where Sam's heart should be, more or less, and rubbed his thumb against his shirt. The comic freak allowed the air to escape from his lungs, probably knowing that it was okay.

"You thought about Sean, didn't you?" Puck asked after a moment of silence.

Sam nodded silently, pursing his lips into a thin line as he averted his gaze. "I know I shouldn't," he mumbled.

"Well, it's not like you can help it." Puck shrugged it off. "It's okay, really."

That statement made Sam turn his head back to him with an upped, unbelieving eyebrow.

"Really? No sex is okay for the Shark?" he scoffed.

Puck shook his head, a chuckle escaping his throat. "I don't know. You're talking to Noah." He winked.

Sam blushed.

Time passed by as the two boys refused to get up from Sam's bed. As said before, they didn't really needed to do anything, just hanging out was enough. It was in those moments that Puck sometimes slipped into a slight discomfort and unknown fear, because it was one of those things he had never done with someone before. But then that nice, happy feeling started flowing through his body, since it also made him realize that he really _had_ changed. Maybe back to who he really was, maybe to someone else, it didn't matter.

"Boys, dinner will be ready soon and I was just wondering if…"

Mary Evans had burst into her son's room without knocking. Then again, she hardly ever did. A wide smile grew on her face as she saw how her son was cuddling his best friend on his bed. She leaned against the doorframe comfortably, teasingly.

"Well…" she broke the awkward silence, still smirking.

Puck felt his face getting hot and Sam tried to casually slip out from under his arm. The mohawked guy started rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands, trying to hide his embarrassment. Hell, he had hardly gotten used to these things himself and now Sam's mom had walked in on their intimate moment. And even though she didn't seem to have a problem with it, Puck still wanted to jump out the window, get into his truck, drive off and never come back.

"Yes, mom?" Sam asked. He had sat up and was nervously scratching the back of his head.

"Nothing," his mom shrugged indifferently, but the look on her face told the boys that she was enjoying the awkward atmosphere in the bedroom. Something only mothers could enjoy.

"You were saying something about dinner…" Sam pushed her, starting to realize that she was teasing him.

"Was I?" Mary got an exaggerated, thoughtful look on her face. She rubbed her chin for a second and then pointed her index finger towards Sam, as if she suddenly had remembered what she was here for. "Oh, right…dinner…" she said, "well, I was just wondering if Puck was staying, but I guess I already have my answer."

Puck's eyes widened in fear. He really didn't want to continue this moment of shame. "Actually, Mrs. Evans, I really have to…"

"You're staying for dinner."

As soon as the sound of footsteps had died from the stairs, Puck let out a painful groan. Sam, on the other hand, just started laughing.

"Why, God? Why?!" Puck whined, rolling around on the bed, "fuck me."

"Oh, come on, you'll be fine," Sam tried to comfort him, "you already know my parents and my parents already know you, so what's the deal?"

Puck took a moment to take those words into consideration. Sure, he and Sam's parents got along quite well. Hell, they were the only parents that had liked him, ever.

"You're probably right…" he sighed, "but still…"

"Yeah…now that I know that my mom is in this overly happy mood, she's probably telling my dad right now and they will continue pestering us for the next two and a half hours."

Puck's jaw dropped as his eyes widened. "Oh, hell no. I'm out of here," he stated, starting to make his way off the bed and towards the door. But two arms locked around his waist and Sam's laughter sounded in his ears.

"I'm joking, dude!" he chuckled, "they would never do that."

Puck growled again, but sat back down. It had been a long time since he had heard Sam laughing that many times in one day, making Puck realize that his friend's depression must be gone for the most part now. The thought made him smile and he leaned in to the comforting kiss that Sam pressed on his cheek.

"Come on, let's go downstairs."

Tiny drops of sweat started to form on Puck's forehead as he and Sam entered the kitchen. The lights were dimmed and the square table had been set up nicely. Dwight and Mary Evans had already taken their places at each end of the table, forcing the two boys to sit down opposite from each other.

"Take a seat, boys," Mrs. Evans invited them and Puck noticed how that particular smile hadn't left her face. He gulped as he tried his hardest to make himself feel comfortable.

"Do you want a beer, Puck?" Dwight asked with the same smirk on his face, but his eyes were slightly narrowed, which made the mohawked guy think that the man was suddenly testing him.

"No, thank you, I'm not allowed to drink," Puck thanked him, wishing upon every God that his answer had been morally correct, because some fathers actually liked to have a beer with their 'son in law'.

Mr. Evans nodded and went back to serving some of the food on the table onto his plate. Puck turned his head to Sam and mouthed an honest 'what the fuck', but he only received a shrug and a not-understanding look from the blond. He started to make up his own plate while Sam got up to get two cokes. Puck had just taken the first sip when Mary voiced her question.

"So, for how long have you guys been dating?"

Puck inhaled the liquid straight into his lungs because of the unexpected question and started coughing uncontrollably.

"Mom!"

"What? I'm just asking," Mary responded innocently.

Meanwhile Puck was fisting his own chest, trying desperately to get the coke the other way down his body. He scraped his throat for the last time before shooting Sam an helpless look.

"Err…I don't really know…" Sam answered uncomfortably, "I guess it just…I don't know...since we've been best friends and all and…"

"Oh, alright." Mrs. Evans smiled.

The mohawked guy picked up his fork, suddenly noticing that there were peas on his plate, of course, because they were so easy to get into your mouth. Fuck, he would probably end up spilling them all across the table, floor, chair and maybe even into Sam's hair. Hmm, well maybe if he aimed slightly to the right…

"Does your mom know about the two of you, Puck?" Mr. Evans asked.

What the fuck had gotten into these people?! "No…no, I…I, err…" Puck stammered, "I haven't known for that long, so…" He started tapping his foot under the table nervously.

"Well are you planning on telling her soon or…?"

"Dad!"

"Calm down, Samuel, I'm just showing some interest in your new boyfriend," Dwight explained himself.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Sam blurted out.

"I'm not your boyfriend?" Puck looked up from his plate.

"Well…not officially, right…?"

"What do you mean 'not officially'?" he fired back, "do you want me to _ask_ you or something?"

"No…yes…maybe…I-I don't know," Sam mumbled.

"What? Is telling each other that we're _in love_ not enough?" Puck frowned in offense.

Then he realized that Sam's parents were still sitting on either side of him. He quickly shut his mouth while Sam was pushing his lips into a thin line. Earlier, Puck had wanted to run away, at this point, he just wanted to drop dead to the floor.

The boys didn't notice that Mr. and Mrs. Evans were desperately trying to withhold their laughter. It actually took Sam and Puck another three minutes to finally look up and realize what was going on. You could almost hear something breaking in the room as Mary and Dwight released their salvo.

"You said they would never do this to us!" Puck exclaimed in a blaming sound, but the grin on his face told Sam that he wasn't really upset.

"And clearly I was wrong!" Sam responded, shaking his head. "Mom, dad! Seriously!"

"I'm sorry!" Mother Evans apologized, "it's just that I told your dad about our encounter earlier and we came up with the idea to make this dinner as one of those awkward scenes out of a romantic comedy, you know, since you are so overly obsessed with movies, and…and…"

The middle aged woman was unable to finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. Puck let out a sigh of relief while Sam was still shaking his head. After a couple of minutes the laughter finally died down and Mr. Evans was the first one to turn somewhat more serious.

"But, guys, in all honesty now," he started off, "you don't have to feel uncomfortable about this. We are perfectly fine with it."

"Exactly," Mary nodded, a sincere smile now showing on her face. She turned to Noah. "You know we like you, Puck. We always have."

Sam and Puck blushed a little at their words, but felt relieved nonetheless. At least they wouldn't have to be secretive about what was going on between them or whatever.

"But no funny business when Puck stays over!"

"Dad!"


	13. Chapter 13 Sam

**So I figured that since I finally have inspiration and the willpower to continue this story again, I'd write it down as quickly as possible.**

**Please do not forget to review! Your feedback is much appreciated.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter thirteen <em>– Sam

As many other nights, Sam Evans was to be found behind his laptop again. The digital clock in the corner of the screen showed 2.49 am and the teenager figured that it might be time to hop into bed. He just wanted to check his email one last time, even though he had already done it four times that evening. It was a weird tendency, but he just had to or else he couldn't sleep. He was logged in automatically before his heart skipped a beat. He had received a new message and looking at the sender's name made his mouth run dry. Sam hesitated for a moment if he shouldn't delete it right away, but his curiosity proved to be stronger.

_Dear Sam,_

_I'm sorry for not making an attempt in talking to you for a while. To be honest, I have been wanting to send you an email for a quite some time now, but I wasn't exactly sure of what I wanted to say. You see, there are so many things that I feel and think about you, which made it hard for me to put them all in the right context._

_First of all, I don't get you. You tell me you're into me, but refuse to take our relationship to the next level. Don't you understand that that is what people do? I just wanted to show you how much I like you, to establish a stable bond between the two of us. Our moment would have been something you would have never forgotten, I'd make sure of that._

_Secondly, you're a fool. You know that I could've been everything you needed to get over your depression, to ease that thing in your mind that made you the fucked up boy you are. I've already done so much for you, Sam, but when I want something back, you decide to be a selfish asshole. Do you always play with people's heads like that? If so, then you're in an even worse condition than I thought you were. And trust me, boy, it's already pretty bad._

_But anyway, that's all history now. You don't have to apologize for what you did to me, because it's all in vain. You could do one thing for me, though, take a look into the attachments I sent with this email._

Sam tried to swallow his dry throat as his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He clicked on one of the attachments and it started downloading. When it was done he opened the file with trembling hands. A gasp was heard in the dark bedroom when Sam was looking at a picture of himself. Passed out on the floor, books scattered around him...along with his clothes. His stomach turned and the blond started to feel nauseous when he scrolled through them. It turned out that Sean hadn't been so innocent with him. Unnoticed tears started rolling down his cheeks as he looked at the picture that proved that _his_ innocence had been taken from him. His first time. And now probably also his last time.

But how hadn't he felt anything the moment he woke up? Don't people always say that you're unable to walk the morning after or something? The disgust of the realization almost made him throw up. Oh, God, had Sean even been safe? Sam doubted it. He minimized the pictures and closed his watery eyes for a brief moment before he continued reading the email.

_As I said, you don't have to apologize. It doesn't make a difference if you do, you know, because I own you now. You're mine, Sam Evans, because if you refuse anything I tell you to do, these pictures will end up all around your lovely, little high school and maybe even at your house. It would be nice for your parents to see how their little boy turned out to be the slut he is, don't you think?_

_I'll be coming for you soon, Sam._

_- S._

A sob that could easily break many hearts escaped Sam's throat. He rested his head on his laptop after closing it. How could he have been so naive, so stupid? His life was over now. There was no way he could possibly get out of this one. Regret overtook him when his nails started scratching his bare arm. So, so stupid.

A thud of the door made the boy look up slightly. All the air around him suddenly seemed to have a disappeared when he looked into the dark eyes of his offender.

"No...no..." Sam whimpered softly as Sean's hand reached out towards him, the palm of it making Sam's vision go black.

"Another nightmare, huh?" Puck asked, the sleep still sounding through his voice.

Sam was sitting up straight in his bed, his body felt moist and he shivered. He answered Puck's question with a nod since he found himself unable to speak. Looking down at his hands, he tried to catch his breath.

"It's alright. It wasn't real," Puck made an attempt to sooth him, softly rubbing his best friend's, muscled back. "You're safe."

His words were apparently helping the blond to settle down a little, because he laid back on the bed again. Puck's arms instantly found him and he pulled the boy close to his chest.

"What happened in this one?" he asked after a while, "was it the same as the other ones?"

Sam shook his head ever so slightly before he scraped his throat. "No, this one was way worse."

"Tell me," Puck demanded easily.

The blond sighed softly before he started summarizing his dream. He heard the mohawked man humming a couple of times, letting Sam know that he was listening. When his fingers nervously began to fumble with each other, Puck intertwined them with his own, his thumb brushing against the still damp skin on the back of Sam's hand.

"You really need to give what happened a place in your mind," Puck stated after Sam had finished, "process it, you know."

The Evans nodded in agreement. "I know, but how?" He turned his head to show his best friend an hopeless look.

Silence fell in between them for a moment and after a while Sam checked if Noah hadn't fallen asleep or something. The opposite was proved when the badass voiced his thoughts.

"Well, you definitely need closure. And the reason why people can't get there is usually because they still have a lot of unanswered questions. Aren't there some things that you'd like to know from Sean?"

Sam sucked in his bottom lip as he considered Puck's view on the situation. Sure, he had a lot of questions for Sean, but an answer to them would most likely mean talking to him, which was something the teenager definitely didn't feel like doing.

"Not really, actually," he lied.

"Then why do you think that you decided to read the email in your dream?" Puck instantly fired back, "you could've just deleted it."

"Well, I don't know, Noah, it's not like I control my dreams," Sam responded bitterly.

"Oh, come on, Sam. You know I have a point."

"I'm not talking to Sean ever again."

"Why not? You'll be fine, we'll come up with a plan or something so that you'll be safe," Puck pushed.

"Can we just drop it?!" Sam now exclaimed angrily, turning onto his side so that his back was facing Noah.

Which, of course, Puck only saw as an invitation to spoon him. He kept his mouth shut, though, and Sam instantly felt guilty. He knew that his best friend was right, but something inside him kept telling him that time could heal all kinds of wounds and that little spark of hope was enough to keep him from giving in. I mean, he was still young, had probably still at least 60 years ahead of him, so this thing wouldn't be bothering him for that long, right? Coming to think of it, at one point Sam had thought that his depression was something he'd always had to live with, but even that had went away. Sure, it had taken some time, but still, it was gone. Yeah, his nightmares and unease would probably go away after a while.

But regardless of that, it didn't give him the right to be so unfair towards Noah. After all, he was only trying to help. But from the way he had his arm wrapped around his chest, the blond knew that he wasn't mad at him. Maybe Puck understood that sometimes it would take Sam a while to realize things or when to leave him alone with his thoughts. Which actually was pretty ironic, since that was exactly the thing that caused him to slip into a depression in the past.

"Sam?" Puck's voice sounded fifteen minutes of silence later.

"Hmm?"

"Do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

Sam spread his eyes wide open at that unexpected question. He turned around a little to take in the look on Noah's face, wondering if he was being serious. The hazel eyes confirmed that, because hope and, if you looked very closely, some fear were shining in them.

"Weren't we already?" he joked, referring to the brief conversation during dinner that night, "you know, when we said that we are in love with each other and stuff?"

Puck upped his eyebrows at him. "Well you didn't seem to think so," he answered slightly offended, "anyway, you're being a moment screwer now, so let's try this again."

Sam grinned at that and kept his mouth shut. However, so did Puck, and after several minutes had passed by, the blond started to get impatient.

"Come on, ask me!" he pushed.

"Shut up."

The comic freak frowned in confusion and turned back into his earlier position as the little spoon. Another couple of minutes passed, but Sam tried not to think about it. He had his eyes closed and was trying to calm the slight nerves that were flowing through his body.

"Sam?" It suddenly sounded again.

The boy opened his eyes. "Hmm?"

"Do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

"Yes."

And exactly at that moment, the alarm clock showed 2.49 am.


End file.
